


The Sam Diaries

by Obsessedwithfanfiction



Series: TSD universe [1]
Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: I am writing this instead of doing my A-Levels support my bad lifestyle, I'm only tagging the characters that speak, Is that how you're supposed to do it?, Just some drabbles of post university andreil life, M/M, My OC Eunoia, My OC Julia, My OC Rosa, My OC Sam, My OC Winter, My OC Yasmin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2018-10-13 06:07:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 44,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10507836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Obsessedwithfanfiction/pseuds/Obsessedwithfanfiction
Summary: Meet Sam, a sweet confused unfit demisexual, as he encounters his celebrity crush Andrew Minyard time and time again despite, or perhaps because of the fact that he doesn't actually like Exy all that much. (That or because his girlfriend owns the ice-cream place Andrew's obsessed with. One or the other.)





	1. Sam encounters his celebrity crush

Looking down and finding a knife pressed against his stomach was not a regular occurrence in Sam’s life, especially not when it was being held by an armband clad arm that led to a bored but deadly expression that made up Sam’s celebrity crush, Andrew Minyard. _This is ridiculous_ his mind came up with, _I don’t even like Exy_.

Really, this was entirely his girlfriend’s fault. Exy was her sport of choice, and while he appreciated what it did to her legs, he was completely uninterested in picking up a racket himself. He’d watched the occasional game to be able to share something with her, but then he’d stayed too long and the post-game interviews came on, and coincidentally so did Andrew’s slightly sweaty completely impassive face. His girlfriend had taken one look at Sam’s face and raised an eyebrow; Sam was rarely affected by strangers, and she certainly hadn’t expected the short blond goalie to catch his attention. Sam shrugged, a little embarrassed. He didn’t find Andrew attractive exactly, but the way his face was put together made Sam want to draw it. His fingers itched for a pencil even as he tried to play it off, but he hadn’t fallen in love with his girlfriend for no reason, and her continual purchasing of Minyard merchandise had become a running joke between them.

He still didn’t enjoy watching Exy, but if he occasionally searched Andrew’s interviews on youtube, well, that was his business. He’d learnt lots about Andrew over the last few years from these interviews, the primary of which being that he genuinely did not care about most things (Sam had to wonder what it was about Exy of all things that kept him entertained), but being harassed by overexcited fans was one of the few things that would cause him to show emotion; namely, annoyance.

That takes us to this morning, when Sam was doing his usual stroll through the park only to see Andrew Minyard and a slightly taller red-headed man who he was fairly certain was some other famous Exy player walking in the opposite direction. It probably would have seemed more normal to just keep walking and pretend he didn’t know them, but he was so determined to not be one of Those Fans that he spun on his heel and ran straight back out of the park again.

Cut to ten minutes later, jogging back to his apartment, completely out of breath, and he’s dragged unceremoniously into an alleyway by his elbow and pressed up against the brick by a strong arm and a more worrying knife. The red-haired man is there too, eyes darting around him and towards the exit like he’s getting ready to take off.

“Who do you work for?” Andrew asks, in a flat tone of voice, and Sam’s mind spins confusedly out of control. Andrew pushes the knife a little closer when he doesn’t answer and Sam squawks.

“Um, Starbucks? At the moment. I kind of just got made redundant but I mean- what am I saying you don’t care. Yeah I’m at Starbucks at the mo.” This time it’s the red-head’s turn to sound cold. _Josten_ his unhelpful brain supplies, as the man narrows his eyes, blue eyes glinting like ice.

“You expect us to believe that?” Sam doesn’t know what to do.

“I hope so? Because it’s the truth?” Why does it feel as if he’s getting interrogated? _Ah, the knife_ he remembers, his mind flashing through various gang crime movies.

“Why did you run away from us just now then?” Josten says, confusion beginning to seep into his voice too.

Andrew does not move the knife.

Sam blushes, and if he didn’t have a deadly weapon pressed to his stomach by what looks like a practiced hand, he’d try to laugh it off. “I, uh, I’m kind of a fan.” He mumbles. The knife is removed as Andrew shoots Josten the most unimpressed look he has ever seen.

“Brilliant, another one of your junkie fanboys.”

“Uh, not of, erm, Josten is it?” Sam corrects before he thinks about it, wondering why he’s prolonging this already mortifying conversation.

“Neil.” Josten returns, a hint of amusement playing around the corners of his mouth.

“I, uh, just know you, like, actually hate people that talk to you so I thought I’d try and be, like, a decent person and fuck off.” Sam says to Andrew, staring at his shoes. A short, delighted laugh rings through the air, startling everybody by the looks of it; even Neil seems surprised at the noise that came out of his mouth.

“You play Exy?” Josten enquires. Sam feels the heat rise even further in his cheeks.

“No. I’ve never even sat through watching a full game.” He shoots an apologetic slightly fearful look at Andrew, who still seems to be thinking about Neil’s laugh. “I, uh, justthinkyou’recute.” He says in a rush, and Andrew’s eyes widen minutely in disbelief. _You made Andrew Minyard do something with his face!_ Sam’s brain screams excitedly even as he wonders whether he’s about to get stabbed for real.

“You have a crush on Andrew?” Neil asks, all the syllables coated with amusement this time. Andrew shoots him another look but this one Sam can’t interpret and just makes Neil smile wider.

“Erm, well, not exactly I don’t really do crushes on strangers. Like, I have to know someone really well first. People aren’t just attractive to me like that.” Sam says sheepishly, snapping his fingers. “Demi problems. I just think you have a very draw-able face?” The look Andrew gives him this time is considering, and Neil looks sort of like he just hit him with a bus.

“Huh. Looks like you’re not alone idiot.” Andrew says conversationally, not taking his eyes off Sam though Sam’s pretty sure he’s talking to Neil. Neil shrugs and Sam suddenly remembers how fucking weird this conversation is, though at least he can add ‘is defo in a relationship with Neil Josten’ to his facts about Andrew Minyard list when he gets home.

“I’m going to go home now?” Sam half-asks, and when neither man makes a move to stop him, apparently locked in each other’s gaze, Sam walks carefully out of the alley and as the adrenaline rush begins to turn his legs shaky wonders how upset his girlfriend is going to be that he met them and she didn’t.


	2. Sam witnesses a stabbing

It’s a few months after he almost got stabbed by Andrew Minyard and his ridiculously drawable face, and Sam’s girlfriend has finally stopped following him to the park with the hopes of seeing the Exy stars. Sam belatedly realised he still didn’t know what cosmic coincidence had led to Andrew and Neil being in the park that day, but the hoodie with a rip in it from Andrew’s knife has quickly become his favourite.

The only reason he’s not wearing it today is because his girlfriend threatened to leave him if he didn’t wash it after he spilled pasta sauce all over it. He still hasn’t sat through a whole Exy game but he has got a new job, which is why he’s walking through the park at some ridiculous hour in the morning, stumbling only a little from the celebratory drinks at the pub with his mates. He’s checking his pockets to make sure he definitely has his keys when he spots two guys on the path ahead of him.

One of them is sat on the bench, the other leaning over him but staying very close. The one stood hears him approach if the startled way he looks over is any indication, but he’s lost to the night before Sam can see more than a glint of moonlight reflecting off something in his hand. The man on the bench doesn’t move, and as Sam gets closer he recognises red hair and a heavily scarred face, though his blue eyes seem to be closed in sleep.

“Neil? Oh my hell man what are the chances? Do you, like, live near here or is this park some secret Exy players hideout I’ve somehow missed? I got a new job by the way in case Andrew’s going to turn up and stab me again for that- Oh my god you’re bleeding- shit.” Neil’s hand was pressed into the side of his stomach where a red circle was beginning to seep out into the material of his running jacket. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. Fuck. I’m going to call an ambulance don’t move.” _Don’t move?!_ His mind regurgitated. _Where’s he going to go idiot?_

The next fifteen minutes are a blur while his adrenaline gives him a sobering crash to reality and an ambulance team full of paramedics take Neil, still unconscious, to the hospital. A police officer asks Sam what happened and he explains as best he can, not knowing if Neil was targeted for a mugging or something because the man is presumably loaded. He rings his girlfriend after that and leaves her a message, and then drives down to the hospital with the policeman.

At the desk in the reception he is given Neil’s belongings and told he’s been taken in for some kind of surgery; it all goes over Sam’s head but he does understand that the stab wound is not the only one of his injuries; apparently he’s taken a beating brutal enough to cause internal bleeding. He’s not entirely sure why he’s given Neil’s belongings, but when he spies the ridiculously retro mobile in the little packet of stuff he knows he’s about to have the most unpleasant conversation of his life.

 

The phone rings only once before it’s picked up, and Sam can’t help the fact that his knees get a little bit jelly-like when he hears Andrew’s sleep-soaked voice, even if it is just as flat as before.

“Neil?”

“Andrew? Hi, um, it’s me, the guy you accosted in an alley like a few months ago?” _What the ever living fuck are you doing Samuel_ his mind screams at him and he winces. Andrew doesn’t say anything so Sam rushes on. “I found Neil stabbed on the bench in the park and he’s in surgery now.” _Could you be any more blunt?!_

“Which hospital?” Andrew asks, only it sounds more like a snarl and Sam jumps in his seat, ignoring the concerned looks of the other people in the waiting room.

“Um…” He looks around for a helpful plaque but there’s none. “The one closest to the park?” Andrew doesn’t say anything but he can feel how unimpressed he is just through his silence. “There’s only one hospital in this town to be fair.” Sam tries to defend, even as he remembers Andrew could not give less of a shit if he tried. “He, uh, got beaten up pretty bad by this guy.” Andrew’s silence takes on an unnerving tone of stillness.

“How bad?” He asks, calmly, and Sam immediately wishes he’d snarl again.

“Some internal bleeding? I don’t really know anything about this stuff but he wasn’t conscious when I found him.” He doesn’t know exactly why he’s expecting Andrew to understand that more than he does, but maybe in a combination of Neil’s scars and Andrew’s knives, he has a feeling that he will.

“Keep me informed. I’m driving there now.” Andrew is back to flat again, but there’s something brittle in his voice.

“Now? Then how are you on the phone?” _Does it matter?! Samuel I swear to christ_ \- Andrew hangs up.

And, well, what can Sam do now? He can’t leave, Andrew Minyard just asked him not to, but his hands are shaking with exhaustion born from terror. Mechanically he goes to one of the nearby sinks and washes the blood off his hand from where he’d been helping stem the bleeding, and then wanders over to the desk again.

“Will you wake me if there’s any news?” He asks of the receptionist, having no idea if she’s the person to ask, but she seems to remember him and nods, smiling sympathetically. He wonders if she knows he’s just a stranger. With that he wanders back over to his uncomfortable plastic chair and curls up in it as best he can, letting his eyes close.

 

A gentle hand on his shoulder wakes him up, and the nurse is smiling at him even before he gets a chance to ask.

“Your friend’s made it through surgery with no complications. He’s asleep now but should wake up anytime if you want to go see him?” Sam nods from politeness’ sake and then immediately shakes his head, clearing it.

“Erm, maybe in a minute I need to call some people.” She smiles at him understandingly. Sam fishes Neil’s phone out of his pocket but before he can dial the number Andrew marches into the waiting room and locks eyes on him holding Neil’s phone. Sam scoots back on the seat as he stalks over out of some self-preservation instinct he didn’t know he had. “He’s fine! Made it through all the surgeries and stuff he’s asleep.” Andrew stops walking towards him and goes for the nurse instead, disappearing behind the double doors moments later, the nurse flapping behind him.

Sam’s phone rings then, though he sleepily tries to answer it using Neil’s to start with. His girlfriend is frantic on the other end and insists on coming over to the hospital to pick him up herself. Sam feels his throat begin to close up at how much he realised he needs her support, and cradles the phone to his chest long after they’ve stopped speaking. An idea flashes through his groggy brain and he latches onto it, saving it for a better day, but someday soon.

Sam drags himself to his feet and kindly asks the nurse to direct him to Neil which takes longer than he thought it would considering how frazzled she appears. He can relate; Andrew has that effect on everyone.

He knocks at the door before he enters, but thankfully Neil is just smiling drowsily at Andrew while the goalkeeper pushes his face away in annoyance. “Hi, um, I’ve got your things? Glad to hear you’re ok.” Sam says awkwardly, feeling the ridiculous urge to bow. Neil frowns in confusion, tilting his head at him while Andrew doesn’t even look. Sam puts his bag of stuff and his phone on the end of his bed.

“You stayed the night?” Neil asks. “Why? I don’t even know you.” Sam shrugs and blushes and looks down at his feet.

“Someone needed to keep me informed; it’s not as if I could get any information from two states over.” Andrew answers for him.

“You drove over two states in one night?” Sam asks, incredulous, and immediately regrets it when Andrew looks at him with his dead-eyed stare. “Right. Whatever. Well, um, try not to get stabbed again?” He offers, and Neil snorts, and then winces.

“You live round here?” Andrew asks before Sam can leave.

“Um, yeah? About two blocks from the park.” _Great life choice Sam. Just tell the scary guy with the knives where you live._

“Is there a good ice-cream place?” Sam’s mouth opens and closes feeling distinctly like a goldfish. Andrew five-foot-nothing muscles-galore drawable-face Minyard likes ice cream?

“My girlfriend owns the best ice cream place here actually.” He says, not trying to hide the pride in his voice. “It’s pretty damn good.” Andrew and Neil share another of their unreadable looks.

“Looks like I’m transferring to your team then.” Sam blinks rapidly as Andrew turns back to him. “This ice cream had better be incredible.” He says, and is that a note of affection in the grumbly tone of voice?

“Thanks…”

“Sam.” He supplies, smiling slightly himself now.

“Right. Well I quite probably owe you my life but at least a favour.” Neil says sheepishly. Andrew rolls his eyes.

“Don’t get stabbed again I’ve probably lost about five years from my life span in stress.” Sam jokes. “But if you do want to do me a favour could you both go to the ice cream place sometime when my girlfriend’s working? She’s a big fan, but she’s not one of, like, Those Fans ya know? She’d probably die of happiness just that you bought an ice cream at her place.”

“All you want us to do is buy an ice cream, which we were going to do anyway?” Andrew asks suspiciously. Sam doesn’t really want to think about what has made him so suspicious of good deeds.

“Yeah?” Andrew still doesn’t seem happy, but then, Sam doesn’t think he ever does. “Get better soon. See ya around.” Sam turns and leaves, looking forward to finding his girlfriend in the parking lot and going home.


	3. Sam becomes an ice cream flavour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I hope y'all have become as attached to Sam as I have because this is more Sam than Andreil tho they still obvs feature

Sam’s girlfriend had hung every newspaper clipping she could find that discussed Neil Josten’s recent stabbing (Sam was horrified to find out there had been more than one. His girlfriend had merely gestured to her face, indicating Neil’s scars, and Sam had realised he was just as much of an idiot as she always claimed) around their bedroom walls.

Every night when he’d come home from his new job that week she’d made a big deal of giving him a fanfare through the door, and when he’d complained had written ‘Mine and Neil Josten’s hero’ on his forehead in sharpie. He’d had to restyle his hair for the next four days to hide it, for which he got more odd looks than he thought the words would have.

Today when he comes home, it turns out his girlfriend has something even more brilliant planned.

“No way! But you just released a new flavour two weeks ago!” He crows as he steps out of his shoes and wraps his arms round her. She leans into him with a contented hum before pushing him away again, getting back to scooping out ice cream in their only-for-ice-cream-testing bowls. Hers was a swirly blue and green bowl he’d picked out for her on their second date from a stall on the beach they’d walked down, and his was obnoxiously orange with ‘MINYARD 03’ written across in white.

As ever, the tub she was scooping ice-cream out of was unlabelled, so he’d have to guess the flavour. It was her fairly fool-proof system; if he didn’t recognise the flavour, no-one would. Regardless of whether Sam liked the ice-cream she’d come up with or not, he treasures these evenings above all others, because they were entirely theirs.

“I love you so much.” He proclaims loudly as he moves to the other side of the table and into his seat at their tiny kitchen table.

“Because I’m enabling your ‘all eat no exercise’ lifestyle?” She teases, looking at his much squishier stomach. Ironic really, that it was his girlfriend that owned the ice-cream parlour but he was chubbier.

“Hey you say you like me being comfy!” He grins back, and finds his breath catching slightly when she smiles, because holy hell he didn’t understand it until he loved her but now it makes sense when people talk about living off their partner’s smile. He doesn’t need it like he needs air to breathe or food to eat, water to drink, he just loves it, just wants to cause it, interaction and reaction for as long as she’ll have him.

“Eh it’s just cheaper than getting working central heating and a new pillow.” She shoves his bowl over to him as he snorts. “Eat your ice cream then, you banana.” He narrows his eyes in mock-anger at the nickname, though he’s still legitimately annoyed at his mom for sharing that story. To cut it short; when he was sick with fever age five, he’d had a delirious breakdown about turning into a banana if he touched one. He still didn’t like them, but he saw the funny side.

He takes a spoonful, resisting his usual urge to just scoop as much of it into his mouth in one go as he could, and tries to hide his grimace at how cold it is on his teeth. He squints as he tries to work out the flavour, while his girlfriend looks at him expectantly.

“I want to say orange marshmallows? It’s weird but I kind of like it.”

“It’s you.” His girlfriend says, with uncharacteristic seriousness, and Sam almost drops his spoon. It was on their first date that he’d learned she owned the ice cream place he frequented, not just worked there, and she’d jokingly told him she could never leave a guy she made an ice cream flavour of, because hearts were fickle but ice cream was forever.

“Why orange marshmallows?” The size of their table makes it easy for her to reach over and poke him in the stomach with her spoon.

“Marshmallows.” Then she taps her spoon against his bowl. “Orange.”

“What’s it called?”

“Well I was going to go for something cheesy like ‘hero’ and then I thought ‘nah, I’ll just call it Sam’. Now if it sells I’ll have the pleasure of hearing people ask ‘can I have one scoop of Sam?’”

“A scoop of Sam. I like it.”

 

We fast forward through the night and the majority of the next morning which Sam spends figuratively shitting himself and literally smiling and going about his normal day.

Here’s some things you should know about Sam’s girlfriend, other than she was into Exy and owned an ice cream parlour. Her parents drove backwards off a cliff the day after her 18th birthday leaving her with the ice cream parlour and a million questions she’d never get answered. She had a whole life outside of Sam, but Sam was a very big part of her life. She was once offered to be recommended for the Foxes, but she turned it down to keep running the ice cream parlour which she doesn’t regret.

Today, she was at work, introducing her new flavour of ice cream, Sam, and reviewing over the list of candidates for the newly vacated part-time position. When she’d first introduced Sam to Exy, she’d started with the Foxes. She’d finished explaining their entry requirements and was about to launch into the rules of the game when Sam had interrupted.

“What about the kids who don’t play Exy?” He’d blushed and stuttered something awful after that, apologising about thirteen times for interrupting before she could get him back to the point. “I just mean that it’s brilliant what that coach is doing… But not every kid is athletic, you know?”

It was like he’d thrown a wrench into the way she viewed things. She was so incredibly lucky to actually own an establishment and be able to make a change. Sure, it wasn't going to rocket launch you to fame and glory like the Foxes, but she could offer kids with nothing else a chance to make some money and fund the life fate was determined not to grant them.

From then she’d only hired staff who needed a second chance. It didn’t always work, the kids had stolen the till more than once but the risk was worth being proud of herself every time she looked in the mirror.

 

Sam walks into his girlfriend’s store almost glad, for the first time since it had happened, that he’d almost been stabbed to death in an alleyway by Andrew Minyard, because it makes this seem slightly less daunting.

Slightly.

“Sam? What are you doing here?” His girlfriend asks, confused, but with that smile already curling her lips. She takes her time walking out from behind the desk, a little furrow forming between her brows as she comes closer. “Is everything alright?”

He breathes in, breathes out, and concentrates on that smile. He manages to get on one knee without falling over, which had been a legitimate concern. Her eyes widen comically as a gasp silences all the customers in the store and several of the employees slap excited hands over their mouths.

“I looked up what Eunoia means the other day. It’s a pretty name, if awfully difficult to guess how to pronounce on first glance, and I was hoping it would mean something better than ‘God had heard’ like mine.” Sam looks at her, and the world drops away around them. “It means beautiful thinking. I can’t begin to tell you how apt that is. Your mannerisms, your optimism, that goddamn smile, this place and everything about it. Your thoughts are beautiful and you are a beautiful thought, a dream that I have had the honour of being with. You make me feel so happy, and safe and cherished and I want to do the same for you, for the rest of my life if you’ll have me. I love you.” There are tears welling up in Eunoia’s eyes now, and Sam still can’t take his eyes off her. “Eunoia, will you-”

“For fuck’s sake I just wanted an ice cream.” Andrew Minyard’s flat voice and Neil Josten’s loud ‘shhhhh’ cuts through his speech like a knife into butter (or flesh; honestly it’s probably more likely to go through the flesh; butter is _hard_ ). Eunoia looks from Sam to Andrew and Neil and back again, blinking rapidly.

“You couldn’t have waited until I’d finished the question?” Sam says, not even annoyed because really, what had he expected? Andrew shrugs.

“You’re lucky he didn’t make retching noises.” Neil comments, and although he is serious it sounds like an insult.

“Excuse me?” Eunoia snaps back. “Sam straight up saves you from bleeding to death on a bench and you couldn’t do the common courtesy of not being assholes for two minutes?”

“I want Sam.” Andrew says, before Neil can apologise, or whatever it was that he was actually going to say but Sam’s hoping it was an apology for his own sanity. Sam stares at him, dawning horror at how this was _really_ not what he was expecting when he realises Andrew’s pointing at the ice cream counter. Neil continues to stare at Andrew’s face.

“Oh you _want_ it, huh? Thought you wanted nothing.” Andrew uses his outstretched arm to push Neil’s face away from his and towards the counter. “Wait, you can read those labels from over here?” The store isn’t that big, more cosy, and the labels are printed fairly largely. Andrew glares at Neil.

“You need glasses.”

“Um, Eunoia?” She spins back to look at Sam.

“Oh my god Sam I am so sorry-” He grins, rolling his eyes because, hell, at least this proposal will be original.

“Will you marry me, yes or no?” There’s a slightly sharper intake of breath from both Andrew and Neil, but Eunoia’s the only one Sam currently cares about.

“Yes! Of course oh my god Sam I love you so much.” He stands, and she kisses him, and the shop bursts into applause, and Sam feels like he’s flying (but not in a plane because they terrify him, and also in some parallel world where birds don’t exist because he dislikes them too). They’re both smiling too much to kiss properly but no-one cares.

_No-one except Andrew Minyard apparently._

“You forgot the ring idiot.” Sam pulls back from Eunoia reluctantly, keeping both arms wrapped around her.

“Not all weddings use rings you uncultured asshole.” There are a few shocked titters and mutters of ‘do you think he knows that’s Andrew Minyard’ but louder than all of them is Neil’s stuttering laugh.

“He’s right you know.” Neil manages, after he’s calmed down enough to speak. Andrew tips his head in acknowledgement, and then swings his head over to the ice cream counter. Eunoia narrows her eyes at him.

“First you almost stab my boyf- fiancé, then you interrupt his proposal and criticise it and now you’re expecting me to sell you ice cream?” Andrew sighs but then Eunoia’s off, flitting away back behind the counter and into the storage room, returning with a whole tub of Sam, another of her bestseller; Easy Win (chocolate upon chocolate upon chocolate basically) and another of When Life Gives You Lemons (a lemon sorbet). “That’ll be $66 please.” She says in her typical customer service voice, and Sam snorts.

Andrew, for some reason, flinches slightly, but he reaches into his pocket without another word. Strangely, what he gets out is not a wallet of any description, but an envelope. He passes it to her.

“Congratulations on your engagement.” He says, with his customary dead-eyed stare as Neil grabs a few notes from his wallet and tells her to put the change in the tip jar. Andrew lifts the three ice cream tubs with ease, though Sam’s fairly certain it’s only him that catches Neil staring at the way the muscles in his biceps bunch up, and that’s only because he’s looking too. Eunoia holds up the envelope with a question in her gaze.

“Plane tickets and passes to our next Exy game.” Neil explains. Sam doesn’t understand why Eunoia looks so stunned.

“But your next game is in _Greece_!” _Ah, that’s why_.

“Oh what a shame, must have forgotten.” Andrew says, dully. Neil grins.

“Sorry for interrupting the proposal Sam. Your chance to sit through a full Exy game.”

“Or to jib off at half time.” Andrew offers.

“Thank you.” Sam responds, and Andrew scoffs.

“Come on, Neil. Places to be, ice cream to eat.” With that Andrew and Neil head out of the store, and Sam turns back to Eunoia only to get tackled from the side as she pulls him into jumping up and down in excitement with her.

“Oh my god oh my god this is the best day of my life!”

“That had better half be because of the fact we’re engaged.” He returns and she nods enthusiastically, apparently too overcome to speak. She settles for kissing him again instead and, well, Sam’s not going to complain.


	4. Sam does some drawing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Introducing some more familiar faces. Hope you like!

It had taken Sam a full day to get over the plane journey to Greece. Eunoia had chattered excitedly to him for the entire journey to try and take his mind off the fact he was in a tin can far higher than a human being should be, but even that hadn’t managed to stem his terror. Last year, on Eunoia’s birthday, she had remarked that it was good they lived fairly close to a train station, as otherwise they’d never get anywhere, what with her refusing to be in a car and Sam’s fear of planes.

Sam didn’t have a fear of heights, not really, he just never trusted anything’s structural integrity, whether that be his apartment or a plane, though the heights really didn’t help. Still, planes were better than birds, or bananas for that matter.

Eunoia’s chattering had managed to get into his head enough, however, that he could now recite the stats of the US Court line-up. She’d mentioned how lucky it was that Neil had been stabbed on the off-season (though Sam couldn’t see how any part of that was lucky). Sam had very little idea on how long recovering from a stab wound/ internal bleeding took, but he was glad Neil was going to be able to play; he understood from Eunoia that the US Court was a big deal.

Since the day he proposed, Andrew or Neil, but hardly ever both of them together, had come into the ice cream parlour at least once a week. Neil had informed Eunoia that her lemon sorbet was the only ice cream he’d ever liked (though that led to a twenty minute debate about how sorbet was not technically an ice-cream, apparently Neil had been very bemused), and Andrew had methodically worked through every flavour in the store.

The second day of their holiday was the Exy game, and Eunoia had barely slept the night before she was so excited. She’d also been bouncing around the whole day that Sam was trying to remember how to breathe on the phone to her second-in-command at the ice cream parlour, despite Sam’s continuous reiterations that the place would be fine without her for a few days. He was gentle with his reminders though; he knew the problem was deeper than that, rooted to the mysterious suicide of her parents.

The heat, Sam could get used to. The stadium? Well that was unlike anything Sam had ever seen. He and Eunoia had VIP tickets, which, because Eunoia insisted on turning up four hours before the game actually started, gave them a prime view to watch the rest of the enormous stadium fill with people from all over the world. It was loud, colourful and crazy.

Sam likes it. 

Their VIP box is situated behind the goal the opposing team would be guarding, the goal Neil would hopefully be shooting in to. That much at least, Sam understands.

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god!” Eunoia hyperventilates next to him. He raises a fond eyebrow at her antics. She locks eyes with him, looking slightly crazed. “I’m going to see Kevin Day. Live. Kevin _Day_. Day! _Kevin Day_!”

“Yes. Kevin Day, Day, Kevin Day.” He mocks, grinning. She elbows him in the ribs and he makes an ‘oof’ noise in reproach. “I thought Neil said he was an asshole.” She sighs at him like he didn’t understand.

“Sam, Sam, Sam. My poor demi banana. His personality doesn’t matter- I’m here for his ass.” Sam snorts, but before he can reply someone else does.

“Believe me, even that ass can’t distract from his personality.” Sam and Eunoia spin to see two other people sitting in the VIP box behind their seats. One is quite possibly the most put-together person Sam has ever seen, basking in the Greek sun like a goddess, sipping a bright blue cocktail that matches her sundress and designer heels and looking completely out of place on the ugly blue plastic seats. The other, choking on his laughter next to her, has spiky gelled black hair that had wilted slightly in the heat, and a USA flag themed t-shirt, board shorts and trainers, as well as a bright orange sign that read ‘MY BEST BRO JOSTEN’. The woman takes another sip of her drink before continuing leisurely. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’d still fuck him senseless but he’d have to be gagged.”

Neither Sam nor Eunoia know quite what to say to that, but the man rescues them before they have to work it out. “You know Neil?” He asks of Sam, staring at him curiously.

“Sam stopped him from bleeding out on a park bench one time.” Eunoia says flippantly, but with pride. Sam blushes beetroot red. The man’s eyes soften.

“That was you? Neil didn’t tell me you’d be at the game. I have to take you out for drinks sometime to say thanks; my boy’s always getting himself in trouble but a stabbing is the worst it’s been in years.” He looks slightly troubled while the woman looks angry.

“Can’t they leave my poor baby alone? I mean, look at him,” She says, pointing to the interactive board that’s currently showing a picture of Neil grinning and waving before flashing to the next player, “he’s a precious butterfly with a smart mouth that could reduce a man to a peanut. What more could you want?”

“You’re perfectly capable of reducing a man to a peanut on your own Ally.” The man points out, to which Ally nods in agreement, smugly. It’s about then that Sam notices Eunoia’s eyes have glazed over slightly from where she’s still staring at the man with the spiky hair. Sam tilts his head to the side, trying to work out why, when it suddenly clicks.

“Ohhhh; you’re my fiancée’s celebrity crush!” He frowns, trying to remember. “Boyle? Boyd?” It’s Ally’s turn to laugh, which she does with an indignity Sam wasn’t expecting.

“Yeah, Boyle.” She manages to cough out. Eunoia is hitting him repeatedly on the arm, looking more embarrassed than he’s ever seen her.

“You’re a really good backliner.” She manages to say, punctuating each word with a smack to Sam’s arm. Boyd seems to light up.

“Naw, I’m hardly Court material after all-”

“Everyone knows you could be, you just have a family life too.” Eunoia contests, and then goes even redder at this reveal of the depth of her crush. She ploughs on, giving up on recovering any sense of dignity. “Your kids are really cute.” She squeaks out. At this, Boyd looks even more delighted. He holds his hand out for her to shake, uncaring of the faint track marks visible on his arms as he does so.

“Matt Boyd-Wilds, very flattered. And you are?”

“Eunoia Goldsmith, incredibly embarrassed and slightly worried she’s coming across as a stalker.” She replies, shaking his hand. Sam blinks, thinks, then blinks again. _She definitely said Goldsmith then right? Like Goldsmith. Like Sam Goldsmith. My name. Goldsmith._ When he looks back up all three of them are looking at him.

“Yes Sam Goldsmith, Goldsmith, Sam Goldsmith.” Ally parrots back to him, in a poor imitation of his voice from before which sets them all into hysterics. “Allison Reynolds. Now we’ve all introduced ourselves-”

“Allison Reynolds?” Sam asks, his eyes wide as saucers. Eunoia shoots him a confused look but Sam’s too awestruck to care.

“You know her? From Exy? But you didn’t even watch collegiate Exy-”

“Not from Exy.” Sam says, blushing. “I, uh, really like your clothes Miss Reynolds.” Eunoia frowns, then her face clears.

“No… Your boots?” Sam had saved up for four years to buy a pair of boots designed by Allison Reynolds, boots he had worn almost every day since, but hadn’t been able to rationalise bringing to Greece. Sam nods and Eunoia laughs, telling Allison the story. He’s saved from embarrassing himself or his fiancée further when the stadium lights go up and the players come out to begin warm-ups. Sam joins in on everyone’s whooping when Neil comes out, claps politely for Kevin and gets out his sketchbook when Andrew’s name is called.

Matt, Allison and Eunoia are too caught up in the hype to notice that he’s barely watching the players, instead sketching various things that catch his eye. Like the glimpses of Andrew’s face behind his helmet that Sam only sees as he travels to and from the goalkeeper’s box, or the implicit trust between Kevin and Neil as they make a play on goal, or… Or another person in the audience who isn’t watching the plays, but tracking Neil’s movements with a predatory gaze, even when Neil’s goes back behind the Plexiglas for the start of the game.

Sam sketches the man as soon as Neil and Andrew are both off-court, detailing it enough that it was recognisably that person. Sam remembers a half-hidden figure in a park, and moonlight glinting off a blade.

“Can I borrow this?” Sam asks of Matt, pointing at his latest ‘BROSTEN 5EVER’ sign. Matt’s too excited to hear the sharp note in Sam’s voice as he hands it over, grinning, but Eunoia isn’t.

“What is it?” She asks, shouting to be heard over the crowd.

“Probably nothing. But just in case, I’m going to try and see Neil and Andrew at halftime.” He scribbles a quick message on the back of the sign, hoping against hope that it will work and taking a quick second to be grateful that he brought a black marker with him in his art supplies.

Andrew is subbed on after the first quarter, and flicks a bored look at the VIP box when Matt screams "MINI-YARD!" loud enough to give Sam early onset tinnitus, and sees the sign Sam’s been holding valiantly up for the last fifteen minutes.

‘I THINK STABBY CHAPPY IS HERE’. Ok, perhaps not the most sophisticated message Sam’s ever come up with, but to be fair to him this is hardly his forte. He’s unsure of whether Andrew sees or not, because he remains as impassive as always, but by the time the second quarter is up (and Andrew has not let in a single goal) he still hasn’t worked out how to meet up with two professional athletes without getting chucked out by security.

He leaves the VIP box behind everyone else who is clamouring to go to the toilets, cursing at the line for being so slow as he looks around for any other exits while Eunoia grips his elbow with fear in her fingers, when Andrew and Neil appear in the corridor to the side of the toilet queue. Andrew nudges his head to the side and disappears again, so Sam quickly shrugs out of Eunoia’s grip, promising that he’ll be fine, and follows them down the corridor before anyone sees.

“What’s going on?” Neil asks, looking disgruntled and extremely sweaty. Evidently Andrew hadn’t told him anything. Sam shows them his sketchbook, where the drawing of the man is on the most recent page. Neil takes it from his hand with a quick intake of breath, becoming unnaturally still.

“He’s here?” Andrew demands, shoulders tense.

“In the crowd on the left side of the VIP box. He looked shady and he was staring at Neil so I thought at the least he was a creep and at the most…” Neither Andrew or Neil acknowledged this. “He didn’t stab you in a mugging then, I’m guessing.”

“One of your father’s or…?” Andrew says to Neil, still ignoring Sam.

“My father’s. I’ll call Stuart; they can get rid of him like they’re supposed to.” Sam doesn’t know who this ‘they’ are, but it takes a very small amount of tension out of Andrew’s back.

“Your father sent a man to stab you?” Sam asks, horrified. Andrew and Neil finally move to acknowledge his existence as Neil hands back over the sketchbook with a grim smile.

“Not exactly. Thank you for this.” He says, tapping a finger against the drawing. “It’s a bit embarrassing to be honest that you’re doing a better job of finding criminals than the police.” Andrew snatches the sketchbook out of Sam’s hands again, flipping through the pages with seemingly no interest.

“I guess you weren’t lying when you said I had a draw-able face.” He deadpans, finally, and Neil looks over his shoulder to see the many, many drawings of Andrew Minyard. Neil reaches a hand out to stop on a particular page.

On one half, there is Eunoia on the day he proposed, eyes wide and filled with tears, radiant and stunning, just the way he remembered. On the other, Andrew stands, racquet dwarfing him with his helmet tucked under one arm. His hair is plastered to his forehead, spots of pink on his cheeks the only other visible source of his exertion. He is ignoring all the numerous microphones pointed his way, staring at something behind the camera with a look Sam had never been able to decipher but immediately wanted to draw.

“That was the last day of your season.” Neil mused, brushing his fingers over the paper absent-mindedly. “I turned up as a surprise.”

“It was hardly a surprise.” Andrew retorted. “For one, surprises are supposed to be enjoyable, and you’d left the plane ticket out on your bedside table the last time I visited your apartment.” Neil almost pouted at him.

“I could have not used it.” Andrew just looked at him and Neil sighed.

“It’s a really good drawing.” He offered, while Andrew just passed the sketchbook back.

“You’ve only got five minutes to leave before halftime ends and you have to watch a full Exy game.” Andrew cuts in. Sam shrugs.

“I think I’ll manage.”


	5. Sam gets wrangled into a double-date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Have some cafe fluff. Thank you to everyone who has left Kudos and comments; I love receiving them!

In all honesty, Sam has no idea how he’s ended up in this situation. It beat certain other situations he could name, such as finding a famous Exy player stabbed on a park bench, or the majority of all his schooling until university, or the sickening look of relief on his parents’ faces when he ended up in a ‘straight’ relationship. (His parents were firmly in the ‘oh we’re so supportive as long as it’s not our child’ category, and his years of not wanting to date anybody had made them panic. He didn’t bother trying to correct them; he knew he was demi and so did Eunoia, and they were the only opinions he cared about on this issue.)

Still, this situation is just as precarious.

Eunoia seemed blissfully unaware of his confusion as she’d tugged him over to the table in their favourite café in the city, where Andrew and Neil were sat. When they came here they usually sat on one of the smaller tables by the counter, but the two Exy players were sat opposite each other in front of the huge front window.

In the couple of months since the game in Greece they’d hardly seen Andrew or Neil, what with them jetting around the globe for all their games. This hasn’t, apparently, stopped Eunoia and Neil becoming friends, if the easy way Eunoia leans in to kiss his forehead and slide herself into the seat next to him is any indication. Sam blinks stupidly, stood next to the table.

Andrew looks over from where he’s been staring out the window. “You going to stand there all day?” Sam hastens to sit down, aware that this is the closest he’s ever been to his celebrity crush. “The guy at the game got taken care of.” He continues. Sam feels a weight he hadn’t realised he’d been carrying lift from his shoulders.

Eunoia orders their usual coffees and launches straight into Exy talk with Neil until they arrive. Sam waits for a pause in their dialogue, not fancying his chances trying to engage Andrew in conversation. “Why didn’t you tell me we were going on a double-date?” Sam asks of Eunoia, disgruntled when she bursts out laughing.

“Your look of surprise. But mainly because this isn’t one; this place would be a shoddy excuse of a double-date.” She points out.

“True. We’ve never come here on an actual date.” Sam concedes, but Eunoia blushes. Sam quirks an eyebrow.

“Well. You know how you didn’t realise we were dating until the day _you_ asked _me_ out?”

“How did you not know you were dating?” Andrew scoffs. Sam looks perplexed.

“Wait, how long do _you_ think we’ve been dating?” Eunoia buries her head in her hands as her shoulders shake with laughter.

“Since the first time I asked you out for coffee here, you banana.” She manages, eventually.

“Which was how long before this ‘first date’?” Neil asks, wryly. _Finished uni for the summer, came here with friends instead of going back home, met Eunoia at the ice cream place..._ Sam splutters as he works backwards.

“Like six months!” Sam panics. “Oh my god. I am _so_ sorry.” Eunoia’s eyes get a bit darker.

“Don’t apologise. It’s not your fault your parents convinced you that you were a freak.” Once, on one of the rare occasions that Sam had gotten drunk, he’d told Eunoia he wished his parents were good enough to be parental figures to her too. Her hand had stilled in his hair where he’d been resting his head on her lap. The story of the constant comparison between Sam and his older ‘heart-breaker’ brother had come out, and when he’d tried to ask his mum if there was something wrong with him for not wanting a ‘healthy sexual appetite’ ( _just hearing those words from mom has knocked years off my lifespan_ ) she had replied with an emphatic _yes_.

“Didn’t your parents commit joint suicide just after you turned 18?” Andrew cuts in, callously. Sam tenses but Eunoia just flicks him with a cool look. Sam feels his heart swell with pride at how far Eunoia had come with being able to talk about her parents.

“Sure. But they were good parents before that. Something no-one else here can say.” She says, gently. Neil fidgets with his hair restlessly.

“I guess your parents were weird about you not finding someone, while my mum was weird about the opposite.” He says, eventually.

“Weird is not how I’d describe physical abuse.” Andrew says, in a carefully controlled voice, with the air of this being an old argument. Sam meets Neil’s gaze with a shared moment of understanding. “Besides; _you_ didn’t realise I’d suck you off until I told you.” He adds.

The majority of Sam’s drink is snorted out of his nose as he begins coughing in earnest, feeling his cheeks flame with heat. Eunoia pats him half-heartedly on the back, looking at Andrew with mild horror. Neil’s head hits the table and, while Andrew doesn’t quite smirk, there’s something amused in his expression.

“Maybe I should have tried that approach.” Eunoia says eventually, when Sam’s coughs die down. Sam widens his eyes in disbelief.

“I hate you.” Andrew says to Neil, quite cheerfully, as Neil glares at him. Then Neil smirks, evilly enough to cause Sam to lean back a bit in his seat.

“Wedding plans? Tell us _everything_.” Andrew’s returning glare is hot enough to melt ice-caps, not that it seems to be affecting Neil at all. Sam can’t help perking up at the mention of his upcoming nuptials though, even as he knows he’s being manipulated for some other purpose of Neil’s.

“That’s the main reason I asked to meet up while you were back actually.” Eunoia says, before Sam can launch into the plans he and Eunoia have been working on. Sam shoots her a quizzical look, but slots his fingers easily through hers when she offers her hand. “I was wondering if you’d like to come? To the reception, obviously, I’m sure you have no interest in the ceremony-”

“What makes you think we have any interest in the reception?” Andrew asks as at the same time Neil says, “Actually I’m quite interested to see a wedding ceremony that doesn’t involve rings.” Sam snorts quietly, quickly turning into the receiving end of Andrew’s glare.

“I am not going to another Exy themed wedding.” Andrew deadpans. Sam makes a face.

“Good because I’m not having one. You do realise there are people who can just like something without it turning into their whole life right?” Andrew swings a look at Neil who raises his hands in protest.

“Junkie.” Andrew says, almost fondly. Sam sighs and looks at Eunoia, squeezing her hand.

“Eunoia, I don’t know. We’ve already invited my brother.” Eunoia blanches.

“Ah shit. I hadn’t thought about that.”

“It’s hardly like they’re subtle is it?” Sam points out, casting a meaningful look in Andrew and Neil’s direction.

“The media hasn’t caught on yet.” Eunoia argues.

“My brother isn’t the media. Besides, it’s ridiculous to ask them to pretend they’re not basically married.”

“We’re not basically married!” Neil splutters out. Eunoia and Sam both send him identical pitying looks.

“Ok honey.” Eunoia consoles, patting him on the shoulder. Andrew glares fiercely at her hand. “See?!” She says, exasperated, removing her hand. Sam stifles his giggles by turning his head into his jumper.

“What’s the deal with your brother?” Andrew asks.

“He can’t be as bad as Aaron.” Neil sulks. Eunoia bites back a smile.

“My brother…”

“He’s an asshole.” Eunoia finishes.

“We can deal with a homophobic asshole.” Andrew says easily. Eunoia and Sam share a look.

“That’s not exactly the problem.” Eunoia rubs a soothing circle on Sam’s palm with her thumb. “He’s er… He’ll do anything to piss off mom and dad. And he kind of… Hehasafetish.” Sam says in a rush.

“You don’t want us at the wedding because your brother’s going to hit on Neil?” Eunoia giggles like she can’t help herself.

“Between you and your brother you’re really killing Neil’s ego.” Eunoia says.

“You don’t want us there because your brother’s going to hit on _Andrew_?” Neil asks, sounding delighted.

Andrew looks momentarily shocked. “Maybe if Andrew takes to his attention as nicely as he took to Sam running away from him, he’ll stop being such an asshole.” Eunoia suggests, grinning.

“If he tries anything I will gut him.” Andrew agrees.

“Well that’s settled then.” Eunoia says, clapping her hands. “You’re coming to the wedding. This, I have to see.”


	6. Sam is duped into exercise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The interview with Aaron is something I already wrote as a HC which you can find on my tumblr or here. Thank you to everyone who has/is going to Kudos/comment it makes my day!

_‘Sam, Eunoia gave me your number. Could we meet up at the cafe in about ten minutes? It's urgent. Neil.’_

Sam had two options. He could ignore the text and potentially abandon Neil in a time of need, therefore be hunted down by an unsmiling Andrew Minyard and get a knife in his gut before he could walk down the aisle. OK, so option one sucks. Option two; he somehow manages to get from work to the cafe in under ten minutes, knowing that the bus will not be on time and he's never had to get that far on foot in such a short time ever. Option two also sucks, and may also result in his death via cardiac arrest. _At least I'll look less traumatising in my coffin if it’s cardiac arrest though._

Option two it is.

Sam makes his excuses citing a family emergency, having a minor irrational panic as he jogs out of the company that his word choice will somehow get back to Andrew and he'll get a knife to the gut regardless of the Neil situation.

He really shouldn't be approximating friends with someone who is so likely to kill him at any moment. _Ah well, too late now._

Not even his impending death is enough to distract him from how fucking awful running is. To say he's sweating would be a major understatement. Close to collapsing from hyperthermia is a more accurate. He's glad he hasn't eaten lunch yet because he's certain he'd be expelling it on the sidewalk if he had. He takes to swearing aloud each time his right foot hits the floor, uncaring of the other sidewalk occupants' horrified looks. He does tone it down to 'damnit' as he runs past the school, but he's straight back to panting 'fuck me up the ass with a chainsaw shit fuck shit' immediately afterwards. 

Needless to say, he doesn't make the trip in ten minutes, more like twenty, but still notably faster than the bus, a fact he would be proud of if he could get enough oxygen into his lungs to be able feel anything besides intense nausea.

He staggers into the coffee shop and looks wildly around for Neil, hoping to any and all higher powers that Neil has a) a good reason for this and b) that it doesn't require him to do anything.

Unfortunately, Neil is apparently unmoveable by higher powers.

“What happened to you?” Neil asks as Sam throws himself down onto the seat opposite him by the window. Sam waves an indignant but exhausted hand at him, slumping enough in his seat that he can see the underside if the table.

“You, said, it, was, urgent.” Neil has the grace to look slightly sheepish.

“Well. Urgent might have been a bit... Presumptuous.” Sam's generally not very good at glaring, but he thinks he can make an exception as he stares Neil down.

“You made me, an unfit lump of a human being, lie my way out of work and then run halfway across the city for something that was not an emergency?!”

“This is presumably a bad time to admit I need a favour isn't it?” Sam thumps his head against the seat, but he can't be mad for long, especially in the face of Neil's disappointed face.

“What is it?”

“I was wondering if you would draw me something.” Sam blinks. He draws himself up by digging his elbow into the table and looks at Neil properly.

“More stabby stalkers?” Neil shakes his head, to Sam's relief.

“No. It's Dan and Matt's wedding anniversary next week, and I was wondering if you could draw my Foxes line up like this.” From his pocket, Neil produced an image from google entitled 'squad goals'. Crude stick figures were shown posing, and above each of them Neil had written which one of his Foxes he wanted drawn in that pose. Sam smiled as he looked at it, sensing that the choice of each person's pose had been chosen very carefully.

“I'll need reference pictures. But I'm pretty sure I could get this done by next week.”

“Good. How much is it?” Sam frowned at him.

“What?”

“For the drawing.” Neil said impatiently, glancing out of the window as his knee bounced enough to knock into the table.

“Um. I don't know. I've never been commissioned before.” He didn't point out that Neil should probably have commissioned an artist who was actually looking for commissions. He had a feeling he'd earnt a bit of Neil's trust, enough that he'd go to him with this. Alternatively Neil might just not have any idea that there were artists on the Internet looking for commissions. He didn't really strike Sam as an active Tumblr user. _Either or._

Before Sam can come to a decision, he’s distracted by the newspaper on the far end of the table that’s blown open from the (blessed) breeze coming through the window. He snags the page and pulls it towards him.

_THE REAL REASON BEHIND THE JOSTEN-MINYARD RIVALRY?_

The headline is the top story in the sports section. Neil reads it upside down and groans burying his face in his hands.

“Fuck. I didn’t think it would be in the _newspaper_.” Sam scans the article baffled, only putting it together when he spots the blurry selfie in the centre. In it, other than the clearly excited Exy fan’s face, Neil and Andrew are sat opposite each other at the very same table Sam is now sat at, looking as indifferent as usual apart from their clasped hands. To Sam’s confusion, the media seem to think that it’s Andrew’s twin brother Aaron in the picture, and that- Sam can’t help but snort when he reads it- that Andrew’s homophobic.

“What’s the ‘rivalry’ about?” Neil shrugs, but he’s smirking a little bit.

“On the court I talk to Andrew in Russian a lot. It’s not my fault if the media misconstrued my… Enthused reminders of our grocery list.” Sam giggles and Neil’s smirk widens as he catches his eye. “I caught this,” Neil continues, waving his hand at the article, “On my Twitter this morning before my run. Wanted to meet up with you about this drawing before Andrew sees it.”

“Why?” Sam asks curiously. Neil winces, and nods his head at something behind Sam.

Sam turns to find Andrew Minyard stalking towards him with something lethal in his eyes. All 5 foot nothing of muscle, and probably 90% ice cream if his purchases at Eunoia’s are anything to go by… Well Sam’s not ashamed to admit he scrambles hastily out of his seat and out of Andrew’s way.

Andrew takes no notice of Sam, instead reaching the table and glowering at Neil, who looks completely unrepentant. This, however, traps Sam between the counter and the exit, with Andrew an unmoving roadblock in-between. Andrew says something in scornful Russian, and Neil replies lazily in the same language, looking amused. Sam has no idea what’s going on, other than he is feeling more uncomfortable by the second.

He glances around wildly for a distraction, eyes landing on the tiny TV screen above the counter that’s always on a news channel. From here, he can’t hear anything, but he notices when Andrew’s body double is depicted on screen, looking like someone who should be frazzled considering he’s wearing his pyjamas and his hair is a bird’s nest, but he’s glaring into the camera lens like it has personally offended him. In all honesty, it might have.

“Um, guys?” He hedges. Andrew’s head whips up to follow his line of sight, and before Sam can say anything, Andrew is shoving him out of the way and stalking up to the counter.

“Turn it up.” Andrew commands, emotionless, but the threat in his eyes makes the poor cashier hurry to do what he says even as the man’s eyes flick between Andrew and the screen with dawning amazement.

“- _Katelyn_ , why the,” BEEP, “Would I date someone as idiotic as _Neil_ ,” BEEEEP, “ _Josten_ and if you _had_ two brain cells to provoke a synaptic response you’d know that’s clearly _Andrew_ in the photo you absolute morons.” The clip finishes and it flicks back to the studio where the newsreader is talking through what Aaron had said, as if he hadn’t made himself perfectly clear.

Sam glances at Andrew’s face cautiously, but he still doesn’t know Andrew well enough to read what he's thinking. Neil had wandered over at some point during Aaron's speech and was resting the majority of his upper body on the counter, looking back at Andrew.

“He has a point. You are an idiot.” Andrew says eventually.

“I guess we’re out now then.” Neil sighs faux-dramatically. “And here I was hoping to come across as heterosexual. Kevin will be so disappointed.”

“Day’s just too much of a coward to come out himself.” Andrew mused. Neil blinked, and then his eyes opened wide.

“What? Andrew, _what_?!” The tiniest of smirks curled one corner of Andrew’s mouth as Neil continued to look as if the floor had been ripped out from under his feet while being plunged into a bowl of ice-cold water and a bag of rocks smashed into his head.

Seeing as Sam didn’t particularly care about whatever it was they were talking about now, he decided to carefully edge out of the café, grabbing the paper Neil had given him as he went. Apparently, he had some drawing to do.


	7. Sam embarrasses himself on national television

“So let me get this straight,” Sam’s standing close enough to Neil to hear in his earpiece Andrew’s half-snort at the irony and has to fight to keep a smile off his own face, “you’re telling me that when you thought the picture was of me and Aaron, we were dating, but when you found it was Andrew we must have been wrestling?”

The reporter looks confused, as if she didn’t understand Neil’s point. Sam’s too busy trying not to think about how he’s currently on national television. He’d only come out to see Neil to give over this drawing, having to meet round the corner from Eunoia’s shop and not the café to avoid this exact situation. That was the reason Andrew was on the phone with Neil, not with him, though it looked like it hardly mattered now. Sam didn’t know if they just didn’t want to come out or there was something more sinister going on ( _And considering I’ve witnessed Neil stabbed and stalked by someone a lot worse than a crazed fan, I wouldn’t be surprised at this point_ ), but he could understand the pressure behind the former. Sam’s parents had apparently written off Sam trying to explain his sexuality as a phase when he started dating Eunoia. He thought it was worse sometimes, not being believed. He thought some days he’d take his parents having some kind of extreme homophobic reaction over the realisation that they weren’t even going to try and understand him. That they thought so little of his own introspection that he must have been confused.

Other times he felt guilty. Unlike Eunoia, at least he still had his parents.

She didn’t talk about them much, and when she did it was always stilted and hard-won, though it was getting easier with time. He knew her father had loved the ice cream parlour like a second home, and often fell asleep there. He knew her mother had worked late often and as a result Eunoia had spent many nights being cared for by a babysitter instead of a parent. He knew when her parents were home they tried to make up for the distance, that they made up games with her and encouraged her imagination and her love of sport, but that they very rarely went anywhere together as a family. He knew her mother played tennis and her father smelt like smoke quite often and she never knew why seeing as he worked in an ice-cream place.

The time after their deaths was also difficult to get out of Eunoia, but Sam had worked hard to earn that trust. He knew all about that loneliness, knew there were still days where she woke up and it took her until breakfast to remember they were gone.

So, yeah. At least he still had his parents even if they were problematic. Though he didn’t even know if he had the right to call them that with Neil My-Mother-Was-Abusive-And-My-Father-Was-A-Serial-Killer Josten stood next to him.

He snaps back into the present in time to hear Neil finish a verbal clapback about invasion of privacy so scathing that he doubts the reporter will be showing her face around in public anytime soon. Unfortunately for both Sam and her, there’s already another reporter lined up to question Neil. He feels a bit like they’re being herded into the alleyway behind them. He wishes Neil had worn his customary trying-and-failing-to-be-invisible clothes for once; instead of his team hoodie (though Sam privately suspects, looking at the way the upper sleeves are stretched out and the torso of the hoodie doesn’t quite go down to Neil’s waistline, the hoodie might actually be Andrew’s. _That and the fact that ‘MINYARD’ is written on the inside label_ ).

“Who’s this? He’s not one of your teammates.” The second reporter asks eagerly. Sam’s trying not to let his earlier observation about Neil’s hoodie make him imagine how large Andrew’s biceps must be to stretch the material that much and failing miserably. He kind of wishes he had a pen and pencil with him. _Andrew Minyard is almost as pretty as Eunoia_. Neil, meanwhile, is looking at the reporter with a stone-cold glare.

“Why don’t you ask him yourself, he’s right there.” Sam can feel himself going red as the reporter flicks his attention briefly to him, hoping his thoughts about Andrew don’t show on his face. Sam has no doubt in his mind that Neil could kill him almost as easily as his boyfriend.

“Oh look at that blush! Isn’t that adorable. Someone’s camera-shy! Or maybe just shy to have been discovered on a date…” It takes both Sam and Neil too long to understand the implication even if Andrew’s saying something in Neil’s ear that Sam can no longer catch.

“We’re not on a date.” Sam says firmly, sure that Eunoia is going to piss herself laughing as soon as she sees this report. He really wants to be curled up with her on the sofa watching 27 Dresses again (Eunoia has a particular time in her monthly cycle where she loves watching rom-coms and Sam’s not about to complain even if most of the rom-coms they can find seem to focus a lot on a one-night-stand turning into something else, which Sam’s never understood. He usually leaves to get their ice-cream at that point. Sometimes, if it’s made Sam particularly uncomfortable, they’ll talk about it. It’s not all sex scenes that make Sam uncomfortable, but the less emotion and trust present, the less Sam likes them. Those films Eunoia’s learnt to avoid over time, to Sam’s endless relief. Sometime after the first time he’d revealed how unsupportive his parents had been of his sexuality, Sam asked Eunoia if she thought he was broken because he didn’t understand the appeal of a romance starting from what the characters themselves were viewing as a drunken mistake, and Eunoia had calmly talked him out of it, and when he wasn’t feeling quite so miserable, had punched a wall hard enough to crack the skin on her knuckles. When he asked, she’d only said that she imagined it was his mother’s face, and there was nothing about him that could ever be broken. On days when Sam can’t seem to get away from the sexual images in the media and his deskmates are asking him about how good of a lay Eunoia is, he remembers her words and the image of her soft skin, and tells his deskmates that she’s beautiful and it’s none of their business).

“Sam was just giving me this drawing I asked for.” Neil adds, and Andrew’s muffled input gets a little louder.

“Oh, he drew you? Do you draw for a living, _Sam_?” Sam didn’t understand the weird emphasis on his name.

“No I just drew something for Neil because he asked.”

“Oh my goodness that is so cute! You two are adorable together.” The reporter squeals. Sam and Neil share an equally befuddled look.

“We are?” Neil asks.

“Look I’ve got to go take my fiancée home. Come on Neil.” Sam insists, looking longingly round the corner to where Eunoia’s shop is.

“Did he just say fianCÉE?” Starts the reporter but Sam and Neil are already gone, hidden in the ice cream parlour before the reporter can say anything else. Neil starts speaking confused rapid Russian to Andrew over his sports headphones as Sam speeds behind the counter to where Eunoia’s packing up.

“Hey gorgeous. You manage to get the picture to Neil? Did he drop anymore bombs about his teammates sexualities? You know, I think Kevin and Thea are very suited to each other but he’s got some serious ‘I need to fuck a guy at least once’ vibes ya know?” Eunoia smiles at him as he gently grabs her free hand and starts playing with her fingers. “Hey.” She says more pointedly. “You only do that when you’re stressed. What’s up?” She puts the last tub of ice cream into the freezer and closes it, turning to give him her full attention. Sam keeps looking at her hand.

“Neil and I just got accosted by the press. It was very embarrassing.” Eunoia links their fingers and presses her forehead on his. It’s cool from the freezer and Sam feels the last of his nervousness melt away. _Just like ice cream. I love her. I can’t believe I get to marry an actual angel._

“I’m sure you did fine gorgeous. Besides, the worst that can happen is the press start making this place more popular.” Sam smiles and kisses her, and then kisses her again because how on earth is he supposed to resist an angel?

“Um. Guys?” Comes Neil from the front room. Sam pulls himself away reluctantly but doesn’t let go of her hand as they make their way back to the front, locking doors behind them.

Neil looks very pale in the dimming light of the sun streaming through the windows as Eunoia turns the lights off in the café, almost as pale as he had the day Sam found him stabbed on that park bench.

“Neil? Are you ok?” Eunoia asks, concerned. Neil twitches and scrubs a hand through his hair anxiously.

“Do you want the bad news or the really bad news?”

“They our only options?” Sam asks, trying to keep his smile. Neil’s steely-blue eyes don’t change their intensity.

“Both.” Eunoia says eventually, squeezing Sam’s hand as they brace themselves. Neil takes a deep breath.

“Well, first of all, Andrew thinks Sam and I managed to make it sound like we’re engaged on national television.” Sam splutters indignantly.

“What?! We said we _weren’t_ on a date.”

“And you also said ‘I’ve got to go take my fiancée home, come on _Neil_ ’.” Says Andrew, as he strolls casually into the shop, his black Maserati parked on the curb outside. Eunoia carefully doesn’t look at the car as her shoulders start shaking, and for a terrifying moment Sam thinks she’s crying and then the first of the giggles leaves her mouth and she can’t stop, even as all three men stare at her in varying stages of bemusement.

“Oh, babe, never change.” She manages through her giggles, clutching Sam’s arm for support and Sam has to smile at his fiancée’s antics. “‘Come on _Neil_ ’- oh my _God_.” He’s overwhelmed with fondness for her, enough that he forgets all about the other news Neil’s about to drop.

Neil and Andrew share a look and then Andrew steps closer to the two of them, putting himself slightly in front of Neil like he’s expecting the two of them to charge at the short redhead.

“Eunoia.” He says, and there’s something in his voice that Sam doesn’t recognise, probably because Andrew never sounds anything other than bored. “We know what happened to your parents.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! It's been a little while since the last chapter but I've finally finished all my exams so I've managed to get this one out. Sorry not sorry about the cliffhanger! Hope you all like it; tell me what you think :)


	8. Sam's relationships take a beating (part one)

Sam didn’t want to have a day like today ever again.

Sam didn’t want to have a day like today ever.

Here is however, unfortunately, the day like today, except it is not _like_ today but _actually_ today which is, he supposes, how he knows he never wants another day like today. Sam also thinks he’s exhausted the word today even more than he’s exhausted the word _please._

_Please, gorgeous, look at me._

_Baby, please, we need to talk about this._

_Eunoia, please, stop._

_Stop! Please, stop!_

 

“We know what happened to your parents.” And Sam feels hollow. Hollow, hollow, hollow. Harrowed. Haunted. Hurt.

There’s a dictionary full of synonyms all created for just this purpose but Sam’s brain gets stuck on H. This whole acquaintance with Andrew and Neil, the whole fascination with Andrew, Minyard-themed crockery and ice-cream sales and Exy tickets. Here is what this has brought him. Eunoia’s not saying anything and Sam’s asking the wrong questions but he can’t get past H.

“How?” The noise; his voice. Hollow, harrowed, haunted, hurt. “How do you know anything?”

 

_Nathaniel’s ten and he’s meeting his Uncle for the first time, and he’s beginning to understand that he’s either going to stop living to survive or stop living to die. His Uncle can see it, can read it in both their eyes, because he’s swearing lowly in a lilting accent Nathaniel doesn’t recognise but Mary adopts as easily as she’d shed the cage of being Mary Wesninski._

_“Mary what the fuck are you doing- stay here, with us-”_

_“I don’t want this life. I_ never _wanted this life. And you sure as Hell aren’t forcing it on my son.”_

_Stuart looks like he wants to cry but he doesn’t argue with her, even though Mary can already see that he’ll regret not doing more. Probably when Nathan catches up with them both and Mary won’t be fast enough to save herself. It doesn’t matter._

_Nathaniel’s the fastest boy in the game._

 

“I researched this shop.” Andrew says coolly, like that answers the question. Sam wants to shake the answers out of his short frame but the second a spark of anger becomes visible in the tensing of his shoulders, Neil’s darting in front of Andrew and a ghost of a boy long-dead flitters over his expression as he throws his hands up to prevent Sam from touching Andrew.

Sam didn’t think he was going to anyway. Unlike _some_ people, Sam doesn’t knife first and ask questions later. Neil’s eyes are still flickering over his face, assessing the threat, but Sam, despite generally being a very compassionate person, can only force himself to care about one thing right now. And it most definitely isn’t the Exy junkie and his not-boyfriend, regardless of the tension between them.

Instead, Sam looks at Eunoia, who has an expression on her face that is very, very dark.

 

_“If I ever find out that what happened to my parents wasn’t their choice…” Eunoia is staring out of the window, even though there’s nothing to see but street-lights and the quiet bustle of life._

_There might be more to see than he thought._

_Sam had come into the kitchen to try and find a glass in one of their still-needing-to-be-unpacked boxes to get a drink, (after learning drinking water out of his hands usually ended in him pouring more water down his t-shirt than into his mouth) and also to check on his missing girlfriend, who’d definitely been in the bed when he’d fallen asleep._

_He knows just from looking at the tense line of her back and the way she’s messily tied up her hair into a bun that she’s had a nightmare, and now he knew what it was about._

_“Do you think that’s likely?” He asks gently and Eunoia slowly turns to face him. There’s something he don’t think he can ever understand on her face, a depth of grief and anger he’s never even touched on._

_“I don’t know. I don’t know anything; I still hardly believe they’re really gone. But I know this. If someone killed them, for whatever reason, I will hunt them down and I will_ make _them understand what they did to me. Then I’ll kill them.” Sam can’t help the thrill of fear that trickles down his spine, but he’s not sure which one of them he’s scared for._

 

Sam knows in this moment, that if Andrew or Neil had anything to do with the deaths, Eunoia won’t be leaving this shop alive. He did not doubt Eunoia’s conviction to avenge her parents, but he was also realistic. Andrew had already shown himself to be armed and skilled, while Neil seemed to have a bunch of unsavoury contacts and clearly enough of a checkered past that sweet, untrained Eunoia wouldn’t have a chance in Hell. If Neil had managed to survive whatever came with the scars on his face, and Andrew juvie, losing his mother, and that still-unsolved-by-the-media mess about his foster brother, Eunoia wasn’t going to make it.

Which meant Sam wasn’t going to get out of here either, because he wouldn’t let her die alone.

“Talk.” Eunoia demands smoothly. Andrew, shoving Neil back next to him, spares her a quick appraising glance; clearly he hadn’t seen the steel that Eunoia had built her personality around.

“Your last name is Plank.”

 

_“What did you do?” Neil asks, eventually, and Andrew stiffens and turns to face him again instead of leaving the inconspicuous café two miles from campus. The entire ‘going out for coffee’ was still a novel and quite uncomfortable experience for Neil considering the amount of attention he got for his scars but Stuart was only in the country for two days so he’d made the effort to come and see him. And if Andrew insisted on coming with him because he didn’t trust Neil’s idiocy to not land him in the middle of a mob war or something equally as ludicrous, well Stuart was just going to have to deal with it._

_They’d sat through an awkward stilted half an hour, made slightly easier when Andrew had left to smoke, but Neil knew this was going to haunt him. Andrew knows immediately what Neil is asking of Stuart, but his Uncle doesn’t catch on._

_“Pardon?” The polite language, the refined suit, the careless tip Stuart left on the counter all spoke of aristocracy. Neil was very glad of his warm hoodies and ratty shorts all of a sudden._

_“What did you have to do to make the deal to kill Nat- My father?” Stuart swirls the coffee around in his cup, looking at the liquid intensely, and then puts down the mug with a sigh._

_“Jackson Plank had a brother. He had connections with the FBI and was becoming a problem. I promised to take care of it.” Neil swallows down nausea._

_“And did you?”_

_“Eventually.”_

_“Neil, we’re leaving.” Andrew points out, jogging Neil rapidly out of his thoughts._

_“I made that choice, kiddo. That’s on me.” Stuart says gently. Neil nods curtly and tries to shake another death off his conscience. It’s harder than it once was, but Neil’s grateful for that. Neil’s also grateful that Stuart doesn’t regret it._

_Andrew hooks his fingers in the material of Neil’s hoodie as soon as Neil’s stood up, and Stuart manages a bemused smirk and a wave of his hand as Neil’s dragged away._

“Your uncle was one of my father’s men. Your parents were undercover FBI agents who came too close to uncovering who my father worked for. My uncle killed them in a deal for my life.” 

“What kind of messed up fuckery of a life are you living?!” Sam bursts out, appalled. Neil flinches back and Andrew’s eyes narrow, his wrists curling to unsheathe a knife. 

“My parents were not _undercover FBI agents_. Do you think this is a spy movie?” Eunoia spits. 

“I don’t care what you think.” Andrew says coldly. He gestures between himself and Sam. “We’re even now.” His hand is curling in the material of Neil’s hoodie. “Come on Neil.” He tugs but Neil stays rooted to the spot, staring at Eunoia. 

“I’m sorry.” He offers. Eunoia shakes her head. 

“No. You don’t get to be sorry. My parents are dead and you are alive, and that’s apparently partially on you. Get out of my shop.” Neil’s eyes lower to his feet, and this time when Andrew tugs him, he follows the blond out of the door. 

The door jingles shut behind him and then silence reigns. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, um, ouch? Anyone see this explanation coming? I am intrigued


	9. Sam's relationships take a beating (part two)

Andrew Minyard has never experienced luck. He doesn’t believe in it; luck, like destiny and fate and religion, seems to be based on the fanciful notion that there’s some kind of higher power that just really, really fucking hated Andrew as a child. He doesn’t much like the idea, though he supposes now the word will always remind him of the first words he spoke to Neil.

Regardless of whether he believes in luck or not, it seems the bad kind is intent on fucking up this day as much as possible. Neil’s close to a breakdown beside him, so the last thing they need is an interruption before they can get to their apartment.

“Are you Andrew or Aaron Minyard?” Andrew and Neil share a look trying to decide whether to turn around to face what is undoubtedly another stupid member of the press, or just say fuck it and run home. If Neil was on his own, he knew exactly what option he’d choose, but Andrew had never loved running like Neil did, and they’d had that whole meeting with PR…

They turn.

To both their surprise, though neither shows it, the person behind them is not a member of the press, but a woman with hunched shoulders, sleeves pulled over her hands and a wary look in her eyes. She must have been around the same age as the two of them, but the careful distance she keeps between them, and her wide-blown pupils make her look much younger. When Andrew just stares at her blankly, Neil following his lead, the woman huffs a sigh through her nose.

“I don’t want any trouble but I just thought… Well what are the chances of bumping into either one of you? I had to say something.” Neil narrows his eyes, something he’d been told by Dan made the freshman when he’d first become captain shit themselves. He is not in the mood for this crap right now. She doesn’t look like a die-hard followed-your-career-from-college Exy fan, especially as she’s said nothing about Neil, doesn’t even seem to recognise him, but he can’t think of another reason why she’d be looking for Andrew _or_ Aaron. Andrew still doesn’t say anything, but Neil can almost hear the gears in Andrew’s mind turning, coming to the same conclusions as him. The woman does the same exasperated sigh again and holds her hands up in defeat. “Look, if you’re Andrew I want to say I’m sorry. I don’t know what you went through other than him, whether you went through anything else, but I know he was definitely bad enough.” The woman gives a small laugh that has very little humour in it as Andrew goes stiff. No, no, no… “And if you’re Aaron, I want to say thanks. I know you were doing it for your brother, but you killed more than just one man’s monster that day.”

There was only one man Aaron had killed.

Only one monster Aaron had destroyed.

The woman turns to leave, giving a little nod of her head. “Wait.” Andrew says, mostly apathetically but with more emotion in his voice than anyone outside of Neil has heard in years. He swallows thickly, and even though Neil is still frozen in horror from this and broken and wounded from talking to Eunoia, he feels the first ray of pride begin to thaw him out; stopping the woman from leaving was something the Andrew he’d first fallen for would never have done. This is only proved further by his next words. “Are you- Are you… Getting help? Seeing somebody about-” Andrew cuts himself off and tugs at the ends of his armbands angrily, annoyed at his inability to speak more coherently. Thankfully the woman seems to understand as some of the tension in her body eases.

“Yes.” She rubs a hand over her face and smiles a little, disbelievingly. “I, uh, almost didn’t make it out of university. You know how great this country is for mental health. Made a couple of good friends who got me to the hospital in time when I, uh, you know.” She says, gesturing to her legs. Neil hadn’t noticed before, but the shorts she’s wearing reveal scars on her thighs, one particularly deep one that runs way too close for comfort to the femoral artery. Thanks to his childhood, he can tell she’d missed the mark just by the placing of the scar (and obviously by the fact that she’s still alive; no matter how great her friends were, severing the femoral artery would result in death in a matter of minutes), but she hadn’t been far off. “Got myself sorted out a bit, after that. The government still pays for me to see someone but,” here she shrugs, “I’ve never trusted therapists.”

Neil shoots Andrew a look that says _see; it’s not just me_ which Andrew ignores. Instead Andrew takes his time forming what he wants to say before responding. “I told someone what he’d done to me, and he promised that he’d stop Cass from fostering anyone else. I wasn’t thinking- It wasn’t a pleasant conversation and it didn’t occur to me until the day Aaron killed him that the person I told was lying about that promise too.” Andrew didn’t say sorry, Andrew didn’t believe in regret. But there’s something in Andrew’s eyes, something that Neil thinks he’d perhaps uncovered with Robin. Andrew had always accepted his part of the blame that Drake had been allowed to continue unchecked after he left the Spears, but the older he became, the more stories he heard, the more he let those stories affect him in ways he would never have allowed to even touch him as a university student, the heavier that blame sat on his shoulders. The woman sees that something, understands it more intimately than Neil did (because yes, there were other people, sometimes innocent, mostly not, who’d been seriously hurt because of him and his mother as they’d ran from Nathan, but as much as Nathan would always remain the main tormentor in Neil’s nightmares, he had at least never gone after someone else just to cause Neil pain. Threatened other people; yes. Did Neil believe he would have killed them? Definitely. But his preferred method was always just to kill his main target, so the collateral damage to Neil and Mary’s choices had been very minimal), and sticks her hand out for Andrew to shake.

He does so after a second of hesitance, and the woman smiles her barely-there smile again.

“My name is Rosa deRosales because my birth mother _seriously_ did not love me, but I prefer to go by literally anything else.”

“Well, Literally Anything Else, this is quite possibly the shittiest thing I’ve ever had in common with someone.” Neil blinks.

Did Andrew just-

No.

He couldn’t have- He wouldn’t have-

But-

Did Andrew Minyard just make a _dad joke_?

 

“Please, gorgeous, look at me.”

It has been ten strained minutes since Andrew and Neil had left the ice-cream parlour. Eunoia paces the length of the store, shoving the tables out of her way the first few times. Sam had waited for her to break the silence, but when her expression hadn’t changed while her pacing increased in speed and ferocity (to the point where Eunoia was almost stamping over her newly mopped floors), Sam had moved into her path.

Her head snaps up to look at him obediently but Sam knows it isn’t him she’s seeing. She keeps pacing until they were nose to nose and there she stops, the silence as tense and fraught with broken glass as a bombed city. “What do you want me to do?” He whispers, his voice strained and desperate. “Tell me gorgeous, what can I do?”

 

_“What do you want me to do?” Eunoia’s pleading voice reaches slowly through the fog in his mind. A nightmare. He’d had a nightmare, and now he doesn’t know where he is. Panic begins to race his heartbeat. “Tell me banana, what can I do?”_

 _“Where are we?” He asks back, shakily, digging his fingers into his thighs harshly enough that he can ground himself to the feeling. Eunoia’s hands curl round his and entangle his fingers with hers._ Huh, that works too.

_“We’re in our apartment, in the kitchen. You had a nightmare but you’re safe. You’re here with me.”_

_“You won’t leave?” He trembles as she leads him over to the sofa and sits him down on it, sitting herself in his lap but thankfully not turning the lights on._

_“Of course not. Do you want to talk about it?” He can hear in her voice that this has shaken her; his dreams were usually more the common garden variety types, not the existential-crisis-in-the-middle-of-the-night types. He strokes her thumbs with his soothingly._

_“When I first asked my mum if there was something wrong with me because I didn’t want to have sex with anyone, you know that she said yes.” Eunoia’s hands tighten around his, barely constrained rage tensing her body. “She also said we could fix it.”_

_“There’s nothing to fix!” Eunoia exclaims hotly and Sam feels a little more normal when he smiles wryly, an unusual expression for him, usually so earnest and honest in his happiness._

_“I didn’t think that at the time. I wanted to be normal, I wanted to be liked. Mum persuaded my brother to start taking me to all his parties, I don’t know how, probably said that she’d help him pay for his car or something. I hated them. They weren’t fun parties, and I don’t like large groups of strangers anyway. It was all drugs and drinking which is fine in small doses but everyone was reckless and doing stupid stunts. And there was so much sex. All the time, everywhere. There wasn’t one quiet corner in the house that didn’t have some people hooking up there. My brother would never stay with me, he’d always abandon me to go and have fun with his friends and I just-” Sam cuts himself off with a shudder and Eunoia disentangles their hands so she can pull him fully into her arms, head tucked into the crook between her neck and shoulder, legs wrapped firmly round his sides._

_Sam squeezes her waist, inhaling her smell deeply, anchoring himself to the present. They’re alone; even if Sam turns on the lights it’d still be just the two of them. “I hate your mother.” Eunoia says, matter-of-factly, after they’ve been sat there for a while._

 

Eunoia recognises the words almost against her will, a thread of awareness coming back to her eyes.

“Sam?” He leans forward lightly till their foreheads brush and Eunoia lets out a quiet agonised sigh. “Oh. Oh, my God. Sam.” She looks at the door where Andrew and Neil had gone and then down at her hands. “Fuck. Fuck!”

She spins away and sits at the closest table head in her hands. Sam doesn’t know whether she wants him to come over or not. “The _FBI_? Sam, what the fuck? Does he get off on hurting people?” She drums her hand against the table, loudly enough that the person walking their dog outside looks around for the source of the noise. “Agents? My parents weren’t, they weren’t- Fuck!”

“Why would they lie?” Sam asks gently, which is apparently exactly the wrong thing to say. Eunoia jabs a finger towards him, eyes narrowed.

“Just because you’ve got a boner for Minyard doesn’t mean he can’t be a massive asshole!” She snarls, picking the words that hurt the most. That’s the problem with letting someone know you. He flinches, because she knows he’s never thought about Andrew like that, that the whole thing was an inside joke between the two of them long before he ever met the Exy player in real life, that trivializing the stuttering way he’d tried to explain his fascination with the goalkeeper is exactly what everyone else has been doing to him his whole life but never Eunoia, never her.

He doesn’t want to be here, he wants to leave, but he also knows he can’t leave her. That’s the problem with falling in love.

Instead, he sits on the floor, leaning his head against the counter, and waits for things to get better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, uh, hmm. I'm sorry about dragging out the angst but- Andrew makes a dad joke? So it's a little bit happier? Right?


	10. Sam's relationships take a beating (part three)

There’s a moment in which sick pleasure distorts Eunoia’s face into something alien and cruel and then it crumples and tears are flowing down her cheeks faster than bullets from a gun.

“Fuck Sam I’m sorry.” She crouches next to him and reaches for his face with shaking hands. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Sam covers her hands with his after a second of hesitation and she leans forward until their foreheads are touching and they’re breathing the same air. “I didn’t mean it and I shouldn’t have said it.” He strokes her hands with his thumbs and her shoulders shudder in a sob.

“It’s ok.” He whispers back and she clutches his face tighter.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do? Why did they tell me?” Eunoia asks desperately, but Sam doesn’t have the answers. “They’re still gone. They’re still fucking _gone_.”

“But now you know they didn’t choose to leave you.” Sam replies quietly. Eunoia’s eyes flash and she stands back up, offering a hand to help him up but ignoring his words. He follows along with her as she leaves the shop, locking the door behind her but thankfully not letting go of his hand. It’s silent back to their apartment and Sam doesn’t interrupt it because he can tell she’s thinking. Once they’re inside though Sam is fit to burst.

“Baby, please, we need to talk about this.” He tries gently. She goes into their kitchen and sticks the kettle on, like there’s nothing abnormal about the day at all. She gets out their mugs and sets them down, putting instant coffee powder in one and hot chocolate in the other, but for once doesn’t tease him about how his drink is childish. She doesn’t get out the marshmallows either, which Sam always thinks is a shame.

“ _I_ need to talk about this, you mean.” Eunoia cracks eventually, barely audible over the sound of the boiling water. Sam doesn’t know what to say but luckily Eunoia seems to be on a roll. She clutches the counter with both hands as if it’s the only thing holding her up, but there’s a rigid line to her spine that Sam doesn’t like. “Here are my options, Sam. Either their completely ludicrous story is a lie in which case there are two people I considered friends who are actually absolute assholes who we know have connections in some shady shit, or, their story is true, my parents lied to me for the whole of my childhood, my uncle was- Is? Some kind of mobster who worked for one of the most notorious serial killers of our time and my friend’s mobster uncle murdered my parents to save my friend. Have I got that story about right?”

“I know it sounds crazy Eunoia. We’re not from whatever messed up black market spy movie world Neil is living in. But…” Sam sighs, unsure of how to put it into words and Eunoia laughs without humour, her hair falling down to conceal her face from view.

“Yeah. But.” She agrees. She stills, and Sam’s heartbeat picks up in some instinctual panic. “FBI agents… Does that mean I was just part of their _cover_? Did they even love each other? Did they even want me?”

Without a word Sam steps up and wraps his arms around her, crushing her arms to her sides but leaving her enough room that she could push him away if she wanted to. She doesn’t, but she doesn’t relax into the hug either. “Don’t say that.” Sam says roughly, his words muffled into her hair. “Don’t ever believe that. We’ll probably never know the full truth behind your parents’ relationship, but don’t ever believe they didn’t want you. There is not a person capable of not wanting you. You are brilliant and they loved you.”

“How do you know that? You never met them.” She asks, voice choked and breaking in the middle from supressing the tears he can feel are slowly starting to soak his shirt.

“I know _you_.” Sam whispers. “That’s more than enough.”

 

_“Jesus fucking Christ get it together Josten.” Andrew pauses outside the door to the bedroom, trying to decide if the panic in Neil’s voice is actually-having-a-panic-attack panic or just run-of-the-mill-exam-season-pressure panic. Before he’s made his decision, and therefore decided whether to help Neil or pretend for Neil’s dignity that he didn’t hear this latest breakdown over his Math final, Neil speaks again. “Andrew’s leaving in three months and he can’t catch a fucking flight every time you get slightly upset.”_

_Andrew stills. Real panic then._

_He toes the door open and it’s a testament to how panicked Neil actually is that he doesn’t notice his audience. Neil is curled up in a corner of the room, knees pulled to his chest and forehead resting on the top of them, trying to suck in deep breaths. Andrew can’t speak through the thing in his chest that appears when he notices Neil’s got a hand to the back of his own neck, imitating Andrew’s grounding touch._

_“Mum’s not here and you’re not fine but you’re allowed to be-” He chokes, running out of air, his panic rising. “You’re allowed to be not fin-” He tries again but he can’t do it, his breath coming in short, hopeless gasps._

_Andrew stalks across the room, noting that on top of his panic Neil looks pale, and he’s sweating more the room’s temperature induces. He knocks Neil’s hand off his neck with practiced ease as he sinks to Neil’s eye level and replaces the hand with his own. Neil’s head snaps up to meet his eyes and all his breath leaves him in a whoosh._

_“Andrew.” He croaks, and Andrew grabs one of his hands and puts it on his own chest, allowing Neil to try and mimic his breathing. Neil does so after a long moment, but his eyes are still wild. “I’m fine. I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine-”_

_“Neil shut up.” Andrew interrupts, his jaw twitching as he tries to work out what’s triggered this latest panic. Even though Neil’s managed to calm down somewhat, none of the colour is coming back into his cheeks. “Are you sick?” He demands, gaze trying to diagnose him. Neil shakes his head vehemently, his heartrate picking up again._

_“I’m-”_

_“If you say ‘fine’ I will stab you.” Andrew threatens and Neil’s jaw clamps shut with a snap. “You have a fever.”_

_“I can’t.” Neil garbles, the words barely intelligible as Andrew’s hand on his neck tightens slightly._

_“What do you mean you can’t? You can’t stop yourself from being sick.” Neil’s eyes swim with determination._

_“Yes I can. I have to be fine.”_

_“Why?” Andrew pushes, certain he’s not going to like the answer._

_“I have to.” Neil says, less certainly, awareness slowly coming back into his eyes. “It was only a rib.” Andrew doesn’t like being confused._

_“What the fuck are you talking about?”_

_“Last time I got sick. She only broke a rib.” Neil answers, his voice a whisper now._

_There’s a moment, and then the low thrumming rage that is always waiting in Andrew’s stomach boils over and reaches his fists in record time. The wall doesn’t look much like it appreciates its latest decoration, but Andrew still thinks the caved in drywall round his hand looks better than the stupid fucking fairy lights Nicky keeps buying. “If she was alive, I would break her neck myself.” Andrew says roughly, knowing that Neil isn’t going to like his response but needing him to know it anyway._

_For some reason, most probably the fever that Andrew now recognises has made Neil slightly delirious, Neil smiles a little bitterly at his answer instead. “I’d send Renee. I think mum could’ve taken you.” Andrew doesn’t really know what to say to that so he doesn’t say anything, even though the insinuation that he couldn’t protect Neil rankles._

_“We’re going to Abby’s.” He decides instead, wanting to get Neil some medical attention before whatever hazy grip he’s got on reality is lost again._

 

Sam had managed to coax Eunoia into getting into bed eventually. They usually stayed close together in the bed, but tonight they were completely entangled, arms and legs a confusing mass of limbs. Eunoia was still shaking when she finally drifted off to an uneasy sleep, and when she startled awake only an hour later her head knocked into Sam’s chin hard enough to make his teeth rattle.

“Sorry banana.” Eunoia says hoarsely. She pulls her arms away from his middle. “I need to go get some water.” Sam makes a sleepy noise of agreement and allows Eunoia to get out of the bed and make her way to the kitchen. He watches the clock tick by as he waits for her to come back.

The sound of smashing glass reaches him first.

“Eunoia?” He asks, concerned, brain wired with today’s events of murder and spies and instantly coming to terrible conclusions. He swings his way out of the doorframe to find Eunoia looking blankly at a photo-frame, smashed on the floor by her feet, her hair done up into a messy bun. “Are you alright? We need to get the vacuum-” Eunoia reaches blindly for the next photo-frame on the mantelpiece and sends it smashing down on top of the first one.

“They _lied_ to me.” Eunoia says dispassionately, not even seeming to notice Sam was there.

“Eunoia, please, stop.” Sam pleads, beginning to panic. She doesn’t react, reaching for the next photo-frame, photos he realises that all feature her parents. He comes closer but he’s not fast enough to stop her dropping it, and he flinches back as the glass sprays everywhere. There are a few thin red lines scratched across her feet.

Sam grabs her wrist before she can throw the fourth one and she tries to pull away from him, letting out a wordless shriek of rage. She struggles enough that Sam’s worried he’s going to dislocate her wrist, but equally afraid of her falling back onto the glass if he lets go.

“Let go of me! LET GO OF ME!”

“Stop!” He wraps a leg around her knees and trips her off her feet, controlling her fall to the ground and then crouching down after her. He pries the frame out of her hand, sets it down and then grabs her other wrist as she lashes out. “Please, stop!” Her palms push flat against his chest and she shoves at him weakly a few times before breaking down, completely and utterly. The two of them kneel together on a floor of smashed glass, and Sam ignores the way it cuts through his pyjama trousers and hopes that he’s enough to stop Eunoia breaking into the same amount of pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end of the angst train! I promise it's all sunshine from here.


	11. Sam isn't even in this one

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is that another Fox I spy?

_20:47: Is this Eunoia?_

_**20:47: Yes? Who are you?** _

_20:48: It’s Neil Josten. I was trying to get hold of Sam’s number to tell him the police got a hold of the guy at the game but I couldn’t find it._

_**20:49: If u managed to get a hold of my mobile number in Greece I don’t think it was the police who took him away** _

_21:01: Why doesn’t Sam have a phone?_

_**21:05: He broke it last week and hasn’t replaced it yet** _  
_**Also kinda still can’t believe I actually know u pls b nice I am too excited and tired for this conversation** _

_21:05: How did he break it? And I don’t think I’ve ever been good at nice sorry_

_**21:06: He dropped it on the floor** _  
_**Apparently me in lingerie causes him to lose all motor functions** _

_21:07: I didn’t need the extra info_

_**21:07: Your fault for asking. Anywho, I’ll pass on the message. Thank you again for the game tickets and congrats on how well you played** _

_21:09: Andrew’s probably bought those game tickets ten times over in ice cream by now_

_**21:09: That is… Maybe a little bit true. I should probably give him discounts at this point** _

_21:10: Do not it is hard enough keeping him to his diet schedule as it is_

_**21:10: Rodger that.** _  
_**21:11: Sam just asked me what I’m laughing at** _  
_**He is shocked and appalled at the idea of a meal plan** _

_21:15: Don’t ever let him meet Kevin Day. He loves meal plans more than he loves his wife_

_**21:16: Poor wife** _  
_**21:20: So apparently ur demi too?** _  
_**Oh** _  
_**Shit sorry Sam’s just told me not to mention it** _  
_**I just haven’t met anyone irl other than Sam** _  
_**Ignore it** _

_21:30: It’s fine_  
_21:45: So Sam’s demi and he was just born like that?_

_**21:46: Yes?** _

_21:47: And you’re not demi right?_

_**21:47: Nah I’m just a boring heterosexual.** _

_21:48: I didn’t know there was a word for it_  
_I just thought I was different_

_**21:49: Well u r but it’s not a bad thing. And it seems to be working for u guys fine!** _

_21:50: Yeah. Thanks Eunoia._

 

**10:52: Neil, I need to apologise**  
**I never thought I was going to get answers as to what happened to my parents**  
**And I definitely didn’t think the answers would be btw ur parents were spies**  
**Like that’s not a reality I ever had to live in**  
**Don’t get me wrong I’m 100% ready to stab ur uncle if he ever comes near me**  
**But Sam’s convinced me I shouldn’t have taken that out on u it’s not ur fault**  
**I’m sorry**

11:10: Your parents were killed to save my life. I should be the one apologising. Are you ok?  
Also do not attempt to stab my uncle you will be killed before you even met him

**11:11: Calm down crazy. U didn’t kill them.**  
**Sam's helping me through it. It's going to take a while to rewrite them in my head. I can't believe they lied to me for so many years. It's like, did I even know them? But the best thing for me is to get back to work doing what I love. And finish up wedding decisions as well :)**  
**I figured that. My parents were the good guys tho right?**

11:12: I might as well have  
I'm glad you've got Sam.  
All the members of the FBI I’ve met are pricks but they were on the right side of the law I suppose. And they got taken out because they were too good at their jobs

**11:12: Pls pass Andrew ur phone**

11:13: Ok…  
11:14: What?

**11:14: Pls get ur bf’s head out of his self-deprecating ass. Also how much ice-cream will it take to win u over? I have a lot**

11:15: Unfortunately it’s been stuck there since he was born.  
I’m sure we can come to an arrangement. Just how much of your ‘Death by Chocolate’ do you currently have stocked?

**11:16: How big is ur fridge?**

 

When Andrew had finally managed to coax a nervous and still visibly upset Neil out of the Maserati and into the shop (thankfully there didn’t seem to be any other customers in yet; Andrew had a feeling Neil would like this conversation even less in public), it’s to find Rosa deRosales behind the counter, not Eunoia. Rosa and Andrew stare at each other blankly.

“Oh yeah, Rosa, those famous Exy players I was talking about come in here all the time, I don’t really know why, but they’re pretty chill so don’t give them special treatment.” Eunoia’s voice calls from the back, getting steadily louder as she makes her way to the front. “Can you get the door for me babe?”

Rosa breaks eye-contact with Andrew to push the door to the back open and lets Eunoia, hidden behind a tower of white dopplers, into the front of the shop. She places them down on the counter carefully, having still not noticed Andrew and Neil.

Andrew takes a second to look her over. In all honesty, she looks like shit. She has bags under her eyes that speak of not just a bad night’s sleep but a truly horrific one, and she’s hobbling like she’s injured her feet in some way. Her hair, for the first time in their acquaintance, is tied back away from her face, and it makes her look serious in a way she rarely is. Her eyes are still slightly wild and more than a little haunted, but she’s calm in the way she unstacks the boxes and there’s nothing fake about her smile as she thanks Rosa.

“How long have you worked here?” Andrew says finally and Eunoia startles and looks at him in confusion.

“This is my first shift.” Rosa replies quietly, fidgeting with her apron. “I’m just helping out Eunoia while she gets some new staff, but I still fill her ‘fucked-up’ criteria.”

“You know each other?” Eunoia asks, gesturing between the two of them, giving a disapproving glance at her friend for calling herself and the other employees fucked up. Andrew shrugs.

“We were in the same foster home, but not at the same time.”

“Oh.” Eunoia says in surprise, and then she glances at Rosa and pales. “ _Oh_.”

“Yeah.” Rosa replies, and Eunoia looks vaguely sick when she looks back at Andrew. Andrew quirks an eyebrow, feeling like he’d missed something.

“I’m guessing that’s why you were barely sober over November and December in Junior High.” Eunoia says quietly, still talking to Rosa but not taking her eyes off Andrew.

“I couldn’t believe he was really dead after I’d spent all of Freshman High hiding from him at your house.” Rosa agrees, just as softly. Neil and Andrew both stiffen.

“I suppose that makes Eunoia one of the ‘good friends who got you to the hospital in time’?” Andrew manages, eventually. Eunoia shakes her head.

“We didn’t go to the same university.”

“Not that that stopped her from flying halfway around the country to visit me in hospital in the middle of her exams.” Rosa smiles, poking her friend in the side.

“Way too many fucking coincidences.” Neil says, blinking at them all. Eunoia agrees with a laugh, and if it’s a little more hard-won than it usually is, that’s to be expected. They’re going to be ok.

"At least half of those better be mine." Andrew deadpans, pointing at the dopplers, when the feeling in the room gets a little to sappy for him to stomach, and this time when Eunoia laughs there's nothing hesitant about it at all.

 

“Andrew.” Kevin’s never been one for conventional greetings.

“Kevin.” Andrew replies, because neither has he.

“Are you free?” Andrew assumes he means to chat, and wonders when Thea had managed to persuade Kevin to be a little less brisk and demanding on the phone. He’s not entirely sure he likes it. He stretches out on their couch, secretly pleased with the fact that he’s short enough that his whole body fits on it lengthways with some wiggle room, and closes his eyes, listening to Neil switch on the coffee machine. Neil thinks that when the coffee machine is whirring Andrew can’t hear him singing along to the radio, and Andrew sees no reason to inform him of the truth, especially when after last week’s mess with Sam and Eunoia, Andrew was worried the singing wouldn’t come back for a while.

“From Neil? Unfortunately he’s still alive and annoying as ever.”

“Of time constraints you bastard.” Now there’s the Kevin he knows and- Knows. “I thought we could get lunch.”

“You live on the other side of the country.” Andrew deadpans, intrigued despite himself.

“And now I’m in your town.” Kevin says back with his usual stoic demeanour, no hint as to why he’s travelled hundreds of miles just to take Andrew out for lunch.

“What happened? Did you finally leave Muscles to do something about your Knox boner? Come to have a gay crisis with me?” Andrew can tell Kevin’s fuming through the phone, and Andrew knows the only reason he hasn’t exploded in rage is that he’s not sure what part of Andrew’s speech he’s most upset about.

“ _No_.” Kevin grounds out, through gritted teeth. “I’ll meet you at that Italian place Neil took us to last time. Don’t bring him.” The line clicks dead before Andrew can ask what the fuck that’s supposed to mean.

 

“What the shit is going on, Day?” Andrew announces as he strides up to Kevin’s table, ignoring the waiter chasing after him about waiting to be served. Kevin flicks an apologetic look at the staff as Andrew sits across from him, who predictably all swoon over the handsome celebrity.

“I owe you.” Kevin says, uncomfortably. It’s the last thing Andrew ever expects him to say. Luckily Kevin is used to Andrew’s taciturn ways and keeps talking without being prompted. “I didn’t hold up my end of our deal.”

Andrew’s eyes narrow as Kevin clenches and unclenches his scarred hand. He doesn’t think the striker even knows he’s doing it.

“You don’t owe me anything.” Andrew says, eventually. Kevin frowns at him.

“I know it’s been ages but that doesn’t make it ok.” Kevin protests, and Andrew wants to snarl at his stupidly thick head. He hated dealing with people who didn’t understand him.

Which basically translated to he hated dealing with anyone who wasn’t Neil.

“I came up with that deal because I was desperate, and much as I meant to hold up my end of it, the way I went about it was all wrong. I built my entire life around Exy and I didn’t think for a moment that you couldn’t do the same. I knew for certain that Exy could be more to you if you just let it, and I was right, but it couldn’t be the be all end all for you.” Kevin trying to apologise is almost amusing enough for Andrew to want to continue the conversation; his face is contorted with the effort of saying the right words, and he’s still failing miserably. It’s quite possibly the first time Kevin’s tried to genuinely apologise in his life. Andrew’s fairly certain he practiced this little speech.

“You’re not listening Kevin. _You don’t owe me anything_.” Kevin blinks.

“I don’t understand.” Andrew rolls his eyes and looks out the window as he fidgets idly with the knife on the table in front of him. Unfortunately not sharp enough to cut the pest.

“You picked Neil.” Andrew’s hand tightens around the knife at his admission, and he watches as understanding dawns on Kevin’s face.

“Oh.”

“You’re paying for the food.” Andrew insists, not letting Kevin linger on the topic for any longer.

“We’re only here because it’s got some options with really rich carb intake.” Kevin says sternly. Andrew sometimes amuses himself thinking about Kevin’s face if he saw how loosely Andrew followed his meal plan. (And by loosely he means one night a week he eats whatever green vegetable-filled meal Neil forces down his throat, and only because Neil hates vegetables just as much and Andrew will one day capture on camera the face Neil makes around spinach.)

Andrew sends a text to Neil informing him that he’s leaving Neil for his bowl of pasta later on, and occasionally offers a comment on Kevin’s latest analysis of the upcoming season, admitting to himself quietly, with a little bloom of warmth he usually only feels around Neil, that it’s because he enjoys talking to Kevin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um so it wasn't until I was coming up with the chapter title that I realised Sam wasn't actually physically in this? Like he's mentioned a lot but. Yeah. Whoops. I have no idea how the American school system works pls forgive me for inaccuracies. Anyway I actually really like this chapter?? I love all of your comments and I hope (for those of you in education) you're having a good start to the year/term!


	12. Sam, a guest list, Neil's pilot fetish, Andrew's thank yous and Nicky's very bad idea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another TWO foxes! They're basically falling out of the woodwork now. I have a lot of feelings about this chapter, I'll put them at the end :) Hope you enjoy!

“It’s my hen night tomorrow and we still haven’t finished the guest list.”

“It’s not my fault my father decided to unearth the fact he has six siblings and a huge extended family only last year.”

“I still can’t believe you didn’t notice your family was in a feud with another family. Your grandparents didn’t say _anything_?”

“Nope and same family actually. All the weird comments about my father being a disgrace when I was in school make more sense now though. And that time my brother kissed Abigail Rosewood way worse.”

“Isn’t she one of your newly discovered cousins?”

“Yep.”

“Your brother makes me want to retch.” Eunoia declares, coming into the lounge and throwing herself onto the couch, her feet in Sam’s lap. She pokes him in the stomach with her toe to get him to take his head out of his hands, watching his face for just long enough to see his begrudging smile before going back to her morning make-up routine.

“How are you doing that without a mirror?” Sam says in awe as she succeeds in not poking herself in the eye with the mascara brush.

“Practice.” She replies, round the mouth that she always pulls while putting on make-up, one similar to the face people make when feeding a baby. Sam always gets the urge to put his finger in her mouth, just to see her reaction. The only reason he hasn’t is he’s worried her instinct reaction would be to bite off the end of his finger. She finishes with the mascara, puts it back in the tube and then fixes him with a look. “At the end of the day, this wedding is for us. Me and you. If you want your crazy recently de-ostracised family there then invite them. And if not, who gives a fuck. This day is for us.”

Sam reluctantly unfolds the guest list and scans it again.

Sam:  
• Mom  
• Dad  
• Sage

• Auntie Sabina  
• Uncle Joe  
• Sabella (+1; Grayson)  
• Sandra  
• Salem (+1; Hailee)

• Auntie Saffron  
• Uncle Cameron  
• Salvador  
• Sang  
• Sapphire  
• Sarah

• Uncle Sasha  
• Auntie Emery  
• Saul  
• Saveria

• Nan  
• Great-Aunt Scarlett  
• Granny Rose  
• Pops

• Dad’s family??

• Winter White  
• Yasmin Harris  
• Talon Anderson

Eunoia:  
• Julia García  
• Adoración García  
• Vasco García

• Rosa DeRosales  
• Bennett Johnson  
• Corinna Johnson

• Rashawn Jackson  
• Serenity Thomas  
• Kacey Jones  
• Lainey Jones  
• Iesha Williams  
• Madyson Davis  
• Jaden Brown  
• Nash Miller

• Neil Josten (!!!)  
• Andrew Minyard (!!!)

• Odin Wilson  
• Paxton Moore  
• Qiana Taylor

“You’ve got all your Exy team, the guys from the shop, and uni right?”

“Yup. And you’ve got your three and only friends, two of whom have the strangest names on the planet.” She teases. Sam rolls his eyes good-naturedly.

“I keep telling you; it’s Yasmin who’s the strange one.”

“We shall see. At least I have more friends to make up for my disappointing lack of family members.” Eunoia says, with a hint of black humour. Sam reaches over to squeeze her hand.

“You ok?” He asks, looking at her closely. Eunoia’s eyebrows pinch together for a second in thought, then smooth.

“I’m ok.” She smiles at him and they share a moment of calm before she gets off the sofa and heads for her shoes. “You’re not expecting me to remember any of the names of your family members once I’m tipsy right?” She calls over her shoulder.

“If you just call them all ‘S’ they’ll probably just think you’re being chummy.”

“I get that it was your dying great-grandad’s wish and all but he was really far into dementia by that point for God’s sake! Poor man probably didn’t know he was condemning all his future line to suffering ‘S’ names.”

“Great-Aunt Scarlett changed her name when he died. Did I tell you that? No-one can remember what her original name was.”

“She’s definitely always been your Aunt right? You didn’t have a transgender Uncle who reappeared as Aunt Scarlett?”

“I mean at this point…”

 

The impossible happened about two months before Halloween in that Andrew Minyard, renowned emotionless midget with no interest in anything besides Neil, sweet food, occasionally spite-filled pursuits such as stopping a goal in the stupid stickball game he plays for a living, fast cars, cigarettes, keeping promises- ( _Well shit_ Andrew thinks, _How long have I had multiple interests for_?) well, anyway, Andrew had taken part in a bet with his cousin Nicky. 

Even more astounding, breaching not just impossible but feats not even alternate universes could have come up with, Andrew _lost_ the bet. The bet was this; Nicky bet Andrew a favour that, if pressed, Neil would say he most liked hugs from Matt, not Andrew. At the moment that Nicky had suggested this bet over their skype call, Neil had wandered out of their bedroom, stark naked, hair sleep-mussed and expression completely content. Andrew’s eyes had travelled so slowly down Neil’s body from head to foot that Neil had flushed the pretty pink colour that Andrew can admit is one of his favourite things. 

“Yeah, um-hmm, sure Nicky. Do you want to speak to Neil?” Andrew hadn’t taken his eyes off Neil while he spoke; honestly he was impressed he’d had enough self-control that he hadn’t launched himself off the couch and started devouring the redhead, which meant he had gotten to see the delightful change in expression from content to horrified as he dived back into their room to grab some clothes. 

Andrew had smugly gone to make himself a hot chocolate, only drawn back into their living room when Nicky’s crows of excitement had become loud enough to annoy the cats into coming into the kitchen too. “Andrew you owe me a favour!” His cousin had yelled excitedly when he’d seen Andrew come back into view. 

“What?” Andrew deadpanned, unimpressed with what he had been sure was more of Nicky’s usual antics. 

“Our bet! Neil prefers Matt’s hugs to yours!” At this Neil had looked startled.

“Hey you just asked whose hugs I like the most! Andrew doesn’t hug me. You’re making it out to be different that it is.” Neil had argued, as Andrew felt dawning horror ruin his appetite for hot chocolate. 

“What’s the favour?” He had asked, through gritted teeth, barely resisting the urge to slam the laptop screen down (the only reason he didn’t was it would catch Neil’s fingers, much as he’d go to his grave before admitting that was the reason). Nicky had looked more smug than Andrew had ever seen him, which was an impressive feat after last year’s; ‘Allison your fiancé is cheating on you with a man’-‘no he’s not’-cue the 'Allison walking in on her fiancé and the pool boy’ debacle.

“I get to pick your Halloween outfit.”

 

Skip forward to present day, the 31st of October, and Andrew had spent the plane ride over to Germany resigning himself to the fact that he was going to have to spend an evening dressed in a tutu with rainbow colours painted on his face or something equally ludicrous, but that Nicky hadn’t said anything about not stabbing him for calling in the ‘favour’. Neil was much too amused by the whole thing for Andrew’s taste, though he was less sure about going to Nicky and Erik’s work Halloween party. Though his German remained as impeccable as ever, his only friends outside of Exy were Eunoia and Sam, and even they had a connection to the sport and himself. Luckily he doubted Andrew would be interested in socialising either, and just turning up was always enough for Nicky.

Neil tapped the fingers of his free hand against the balcony impatiently, a cigarette held lightly in the other, as he waited for Nicky to finish dressing Andrew up. It was a testament to how far Andrew had come that he was letting Nicky do this at all, bet or not, and Neil could admit he was curious as to what mortifying or objectifying outfit Nicky had picked out. Neil himself was dressed in the exact same zombie cowboy outfit that he’d worn to Eden’s the first year at Palmetto, something that made Nicky equal parts disgusted and nostalgic, and 100% obsessed with taking at least six selfies with Neil per hour. Considering he usually took five per hour, it wasn’t too much of a burden. 

Neil turned when the door to the room opened. Andrew stalked in, his eyes sparking with barely leashed fury and maybe the tiniest hint of defeated amusement, his hands angrily rolling up the sleeves of his outfit that had clearly been made for a slightly taller adult man. Nicky trailed in after him, giggling, with Erik steering him from crashing into the doorframe with a wide grin on his face. 

“Do you get it Neil? He’s a pilot because he hates flying!” Neil did indeed get it, but Neil had also lost all motor functions and was only just aware enough to drop his cigarette when it almost burnt out and started dropping hot ash on his wrist, let alone try and reply. 

Even though it was just a costume and the trousers would be dragging on the floor if it wasn’t for Andrew’s thick muscular thighs bunching them further up his leg and the sleeves of the jacket were practically bursting at the seams around Andrew’s biceps… What was the point Neil was trying to make again? Neil didn’t even hate the pilot hat, perched atop Andrew’s freshly short-cut hair. In fact, his mouth was so dry Neil wondered if he was living in Arizona again. Where was he? Did it matter? 

“Don’t tell me you had a traumatic experience with a pilot.” Andrew mocks when the silence has stretched on for just slightly too long, but the anger in his eyes has dimmed replaced with blooming concern. 

It’s a conscious effort to tear his eyes away from Andrew and onto Nicky and Erik, but he thinks if he stares any longer he might be in for a much more embarrassing situation to get himself out of, especially as the muscle he’s put on since that first night at Eden’s has made his trousers tighter in a way that would not help him at all. 

“How long do we have until the party?” He manages eventually, hoping his voice sounds less hoarse to them than it does to him. 

“About twenty minutes. Erik and I have got to get into our costumes- are you sure you’re alright Neil?” Nicky asks. Neil manages a somewhat convincing nod (though not without some confusion as to what exactly about his outfit Nicky doesn’t _already_ consider a costume) and they leave with a few more light-hearted jabs at Andrew’s expense. Andrew’s in Neil’s space the second they’re out of sight. 

“Yes or no?” Neil asks, before Andrew can say anything. 

“Yes.” Andrew replies without hesitance and Neil leans forward but stops himself. He doesn’t trust himself to not just grab at everything he can reach. 

“Fuck.” Neil wheezes instead and Andrew is getting more confused by the second because this behaviour is indicative of a panic attack but the look in his eye is the same one he gets when Andrew saves an impossible goal on the court of his own volition, or smirks at Neil in bed, or when he says yes to Neil asking to suck his- 

Oh. 

“You have a thing for a man in uniform Josten?” Andrew tries not to acknowledge the way blood is rushing away from his head at the breathy sound Neil makes in response. 

“Men, eh. You, very much so.” Then he says something so filthy in Russian that even Andrew’s tempted to blush. 

“That fucking mouth.” He growls and closes the distance between them, liking how he can pull Neil’s hips into his using the gun slings on either side of Neil’s thighs, something he’s fantasized about doing since that first Halloween. 

 

“Guys you ready to go?” Andrew may be able to get rid of his boner through sheer force of will but Neil’s pretty sure he’s a lost cause. Twenty minutes wasn’t long enough to get themselves into any kind of activity Andrew’s current attractiveness is worth, but Neil doesn’t understand how he’s supposed to get through this party without combusting. 

He groans into the pillow when Andrew’s hand tugs lightly through his hair to remind him they have to go, and when he finally gets up he’s determinedly not looking at Andrew. 

“Neil this is supposed to be a classy party!” Nicky complains when he sees Andrew. Neil raises an eyebrow in confusion. “Like, did you try to _eat_ him?” 

Neil sneaks a look at Andrew’s neck. He hadn’t realised he’d left quite that many hickeys but he doesn’t regret a single one. By the smug way Andrew refuses to do up the buttons on his jacket, Neil thinks he feels the same. It had taken a long time for Neil to be allowed to leave any kind of mark on Andrew, and the first few times Neil had been more freaked out by the bruise forming than proud. That was, until Andrew had had a bad day that had him convinced Neil was just as much of a pipedream as he always thought. Neil had prompted him to look in the mirror at the marks on his neck, proof of not only the existence of their relationship but how far Andrew had come with being able to trust Neil. It had helped, and while Andrew was still off for a few days, Neil caught him checking the marks in the mirror with an almost relieved look on his face. 

“Will you let me do up the buttons?” Neil asked him finally, when Nicky’s pleading eyes had become too much to ignore. 

“Yes.” Andrew said finally, turning to him. Neil buttoned his jacket with careful fingers, including the top button Andrew hadn’t even had done up before their make-out session. He stepped back to admire his handiwork and gulped at how the high neck accentuated the strong line of Andrew’s jaw and the colour was bringing out his eyes that were still slightly darkened with desire and- fuck. 

They needed to leave. Now.

 

Nicky had asked Neil in rusty Spanish if him and Andrew had somehow managed to get into a fight without speaking seeing as Neil had immediately moved to sit in the passenger seat next to Nicky instead of in the back with Andrew. Why Neil had sat in the passenger seat was twofold, but the main reason was because he didn’t think he’d be able to make it all the way to Nicky’s ‘classy’ party without kissing Andrew again if he was sat so close to his not-boyfriend. He had no intention of saying this to Nicky though and instead went with the other reason; Andrew wanted to talk to Erik.

Nicky had gone immediately pale; looking in the back mirror to make sure Andrew wasn’t holding a knife to his husband’s throat. Andrew and Neil might have attended their wedding but, well, Nicky still remembered how Andrew reacted to Aaron’s girlfriends. To his utter shock Erik is grinning, almost shyly, his eyes wet with unshed tears, while Andrew very awkwardly pats him on the shoulder, looking like he wants to be literally anywhere else.

Nicky has to park the car he’s laughing so much, Neil not being much better.

“What, did, you, say, to, him?” Nicky wheezes, before cracking up again when he looks at Andrew’s face. Andrew shrugs.

“Thanks.” Erik’s smile hasn’t dimmed, even though the tears threatening to spill have mostly gone.

“I stand by what I said in that letter.” Erik says, in accented English. Andrew’s fist clenches and then relaxes.

“What letter?” Neil asks, feeling like he’s been left out of the loop, but when he glances to the side Nicky looks just as confused.

Erik’s eyebrows pinch together a little. “I sent Andrew a letter after Nicky told me what happened outside the club. Nicky’s a fighter, but not like that. Andrew saved his life, and therefore my world. Don’t get me wrong- you were still- Nicky how do you say the mean word for penis?” Nicky snorts, collapsing into giggles again.

“Dick?” He suggests, when he’s calmed down a little.

“Yes. A _dick_ but you’re always welcome at our home. Just maybe when you were a teenager you would have been in the furthest away room.”

“Well into being an adult too.” Nicky chimes in, ignoring Andrew’s glare. “Let me guess, you finally thanked Erik for the offer?”

“He thanked me for helping you enough that he got a family.” Erik admonishes quietly. Neil blinked at Andrew, not expecting that was the reason he’d wanted to speak to Erik. Andrew swallowed and looked up at Nicky, who was staring back, misty-eyed and choked up.

“Oh.” Nicky said softly.

“I told your father about Drake to try and get his help in keeping Drake away from Aaron.” Nicky flinches. “He told me it must have been a _misunderstanding_ , but he promised he wouldn’t let Cass foster any more children.” Andrew’s voice is carefully composed and blank as he continues. “I met one of the other children that your father let Drake attack. We talked. She said something that… I didn’t want you to think I hold any of your father’s misdeeds against you.”

“I can’t give you a hug from here.” Nicky says, eventually, tears spilling over.

“Why do you think I arranged this for the car journey?” Andrew deadpans.

“We’re not that far from the party.” Nicky says, determined, throwing the car into gear and driving them to the venue with the recklessness left over from his university days. He practically dives out of the car as soon as he’s put it into park and goes round to Andrew’s door.

Andrew winds down the window, unimpressed. Nicky holds out his hand like he’s passing something to Andrew but his hand is empty. Andrew glances at it and then Nicky’s face before slowly raising his own hand, wondering what the Hell Nicky’s doing. Nicky grabs his hand and squeezes it once, tightly, before letting go.

“Come on. I’ve got a surprise for you both.”

“I don’t like surprises.” Andrew says mulishly, ignoring the way his heart feels full and warm with how Nicky had somehow managed to give him the feeling of a hug without bypassing his personal space.

“Neither do I.” Aaron, from behind Nicky, holding hands with a slightly paler than normal Katelyn, agrees, staring darkly at Nicky.

Neil looks between them both and realises Nicky had invited both the twins without telling either of them the other was coming.

“Well shit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol Nicky's gonna get hit
> 
> I know Andrew, at the point where we leave him in canon, wouldn't be comfortable talking so... Nicely isn't the right word but you get what I mean. But I also think after his talk with Kevin in the last chapter he's kind of gone on a bit of a 'let's resolve some things' rampage. I just wanted this conversation basically.
> 
> And Neil with Andrew's outfit. Same Neil, same.
> 
> I also know Sam and Eunoia & Andrew and Neil don't interact in this chapter, but I needed them to resolve this with Nicky because it's important later on and Sam and Eunoia domestic insight is always nice to write. It's just a countdown to everything coming together at The Wedding now!!! 
> 
> Anyway, please leave me a comment, tell me what you thought!


	13. Sam's origin story, or, at least, the origin of his friendships

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter might be the longest so far. There's a lot going on; wanted to introduce you to some Characters before they turn up at The Wedding (!!!). This is also just to show you guys how attached I've got to Sam oh my goodness look how fleshed out his backstory has become! Bless him.
> 
> Not to miss out, Nicky's ready to ream the twins and Aaron and Neil of all people have a surprising confession. In case anyone hasn't got it by now, the bits in italics are past tense events. If anything doesn't make sense; tell me :)
> 
> I hope you like it!

“Well you know what, _fuck you guys_ , because that makes three of us!” Nicky exclaims, to everyone’s confusion. A second ago Neil was sure Nicky was about to cry at Andrew’s (for him) heartfelt thanks, and now he looked a second from tearing his hair out.

Neil and Erik shared a look. Sometimes he hated being part of this family.

“I had to find out from fucking _YouTube_ that you’d been outed to the press, you little asshole.” Nicky continues, pointing a finger at Andrew accusingly. “And, _you_!” Nicky shouts, now stabbing the finger at Aaron, who doesn’t back down on his glare at Andrew but somehow still manages to look sheepish. Erik and Neil both slowly edge out of the car, and Katelyn also attempts to sneak away from the trio, but Aaron won’t let go of her hand so she settles for sending pleading looks Neil’s way instead. “You got engaged?! _MONTHS_ AGO?!” Neil’s slightly worried Nicky’s going to strain his shoulder with how sharply he’s gesticulating. He looks around for Erik, his main support here, but Erik’s talking to what he assumes is one of their co-workers, smiling a bit forcefully and trying to turn their attention away from his angry husband. “So if a fucking family intervention is what I had to stage to get the two of you to fucking talk to me that’s what I fucking did! _Fuck you_!” He frowns. “It’s been a while since I’ve spoken English. I feel like that was too many fucks.”

“You’ve always given too many fucks.” Andrew deadpans, with a hint of the double-edged sense of humour that sends thrills down Neil’s spine, at the same time that Aaron says, “Why are you dressed as a pilot?”

Nicky makes an inarticulate noise of frustration, throws his hands in the air, and stalks off to Erik, which is ten times more dramatic because of the sequined vampire cloak he’s currently supporting.

Andrew is still in the car.

 

_When Sam Goldsmith had arrived at university, he’d been quiet. Quiet, scared but sweet had been most people’s first impressions of him. At first, his roommate had thought Sam was just socially awkward, but after politely but firmly being turned down repetitively to go out to a party, he figured Sam might just be really into his studying._

_Everyone liked Sam well enough; he kept his room clean, he took out the bins when it was his turn, he didn’t smoke weed in his room and despite his thick Southern accent he didn’t appear to harbour any racist or homophobic beliefs that everyone attributed to the south. Nobody knew Sam; perhaps if pressed they could recall he had a fairly standard home-life, expressed no interest in exercise and liked Harry Potter enough that he knew what house he’d be sorted into (Hufflepuff, obviously) but generally he was unremarkable._

_There was a boy two floors above Sam’s that gave him smiles and Christmas presents after Sam had helped him build a shelf. There was a girl who spent most of her time in the library being sexiled that always shared her crisps with him after Sam had run up three flights of stairs to get her inhaler for her (thankfully it wasn’t in the room she’d been sexiled from). There was even a professor who awkwardly smiled at him every time they passed each other on campus because Sam read to their mother once a week at the old people’s home down the road, and it always made the lady’s day._

_And then there was Yasmin._

 

Katelyn soon-to-be-Minyard is an incredible doctor. She can keep calm and collected even during the most panicked life-or-death moments (and none of her colleagues believe that it’s from years of Cheer practice (possibly because it’s not entirely from that; but trying to explain her almost brother-in-law’s slightly knife-happy tendencies without making him sound insane is mostly impossible)), but for some reason, standing in a parking lot, freezing her tits off in her ‘sexy Doctor’ costume that she likes to make fun of and likes how Aaron always eyes her thighs in, with her fiancé who’s locked in a stare-down with his brother that she, even after all these years, still doesn’t know whether it’s mostly just to rile up Nicky, makes her blurt out the first thing that comes into her head.

Andrew on-bad-days-still-sometimes-forgets-his-last-name-is-now-Minyard, hasn’t wanted to kill his brother’s partner for years (Katelyn may be unsure about that but Andrew’s not. He’d never be unsure about something that concerned Aaron’s safety). And yet, as soon as he registers the words that Katelyn has just spoken, he has a split second of longing for a present where he’d just done away with her all those years ago (a feeling Neil would mock him for and say was ‘regret’ but Andrew doesn’t believe in it), but finds it difficult to put into practice when he is still in the fucking car and can’t leave until one of the people who own keys for the vehicle comes back to lock it up (he doesn’t think Nicky lives in a particularly bad neighbourhood but it’s not like he was concerned enough to Google it before he came so who knows. Maybe German bad neighbourhoods look really fancy).

Aaron on-bad-days-still-wishes-his-name-wasn’t-Minyard, loves Katelyn very much. So much, in fact, that her words make him break his stare-down with Andrew to stare at her in confused delight (not that he hasn’t wanted to be staring at her for the past five minutes anyway, because if possible he’d like to live in a world where his eyes would never have to leave hers, but glaring at Andrew has become as ritualistic as fist-bumping Nicky nowadays).

“You really missed an opportunity to come as skeletwins.”

 

_Sam didn’t like parties. He didn’t like clubs. But he wasn’t completely averse to alcohol (no-one except him had twigged that he was averse to crowded places filled with sex and no escape seeing as that was most freshmans' dream come true) which is how he managed to be at the pub (a sensible mile from campus) at the same time as Yasmin Harris, who, among other things, was stoned out of her mind._

_“We should fuck.” Is what Yasmin says to him, sitting down next to him at the bar like that’s a normal greeting. Sam shoots a mournful look to his roommate who’s chatting up the girl on his other side and resigns himself to having to deal with this. He glances at Yasmin and finds himself blinking slightly in surprise. He’s been at university, away from his family, for more than a semester now, and he’d thought he’d seen just about every version of whacky looks possible. Yasmin Harris might be about to take the cake however. She’s tall, unusually tall for a girl, like a good head and shoulders taller than him and he’s not exactly short. She has a very sharp face (Sam finds himself comparing her to Draco Malfoy before he can stop himself), bright purple contacts that absolutely do not match her sunshine yellow hair that is so bright it almost hurts to look at. She also has a fairly impressive burn scar on one side of her face that she’s drawn round in black sharpie, to show it off. It mars one of her nostrils oddly, and twists the left corner of her mouth into a grimace. He meets her eyes eventually and when he does she snorts, and he doesn’t understand why._

_“You reek of virgin kid.” Sam’s brother had said that to him, at Thanksgiving Christmas dinner. Then he’d showed off a hickey he’d got (apparently) off some leather-clad biker dude that ‘_ reeked of Derek Hale almost as much as you reek of virgin _’ and Sam had pretended to not be hurt by the way his mother had been absolutely scandalised at the ‘sinful’ gay activity but not at how Sage was being a dick. Sam also didn’t know what to do with the information that his brother is apparently still watching Teen Wolf, or began to watch it in the first place. Sam’s hoping this girl isn’t going to go down the same route. “My name’s Yasmin Harris. You’re Sam Goldsmith, the nice kid who’s even nice to fucking wheezy Winter.” Sam narrows his eyes._

_“No-one calls her wheezy Winter.” Yasmin shrugs, and then grins, her tongue lolling slightly out of her mouth like a dog’s. “I don’t want to have sex with you.” He adds._

_“But,” Yasmin says, and pokes one ridiculously long talon-like fingernail into his chest, “Do you want to have sex with anybody?” Sam feels his chest seize slightly and forces himself to relax. He’s a freak, but he’s not a liar._

_“Not particularly.” He says, eventually._

_“If you stop reeking of virgin I’m going to have to kick someone’s ass now, aren’t I?” Yasmin sighs, looking worn down all of a sudden. Sam blinks._

_“What?”_

_“Because we’re friends now, dickhead.” Sam thinks with longing about the next day, where presumably Yasmin is going to completely forget this happened and Sam can go back to being quiet, scared and sweet._

 

Surprisingly, or not, Andrew doesn’t kill Katelyn. It is only, as he’ll admit to Neil later, 50% because he’s still stuck in the car. Instead, Erik comes back to lock the car up with a grumpy Nicky standing very pointedly off to the side and eventually they all go into the party.

“I’m expecting an apology. From both of you. And an explanation.” Nicky finally says, sniffing, and Andrew and Aaron share an conspiratorial look of smugness that Nicky cracked before they did. Both of them pretend like these looks never happen.

“I wanted to tell you in person.” Aaron says, when Andrew doesn’t speak.

“I didn’t even know you were thinking about it!” Nicky huffed, grabbing Katelyn’s hand to look at the ring. He introduces his family to a co-worker who taps him on the shoulder in German, barely even looking at her. When he looks back up from Katelyn’s hand he’s a bit teary and Aaron thunks his head on the table in defeat.

“I am not drunk enough to deal with you being sappy.”

“It’s not my fault I’m already on edge from Andrew’s fucking speech in the car.” Nicky says, more than a little choked.

“Why’d you make him cry?” Aaron says, frowning at his twin, disapproving. Andrew shrugs.

“Just said thanks. Not even to him.” Andrew huffs, the words partially muffled in his whiskey glass as he drains it.

“Neil’s been holding out on an Andrew who’s actually nice and has emotions.” Nicky stage-whispers. Aaron raises an eyebrow, disbelieving.

“Nicky I am never going to thank you again.” Andrew deadpans.

“How about an apology?”

“I don’t do apologies.” Nicky glares at him. “Neither does Neil.” Andrew argues confidently. Neil winces a little beside him, but when Andrew turns to look Neil’s looking at Aaron of all people. “What?” Andrew snaps.

“That’s not quite true.” Neil hedges, still looking at Aaron.

 

_Yasmin doesn’t forget in the morning._

_Instead, she turns up at Sam’s door in a very tinted pair of sunglasses and a bikini, with a cocktail in one hand and Winter White in the other. Winter White is the girl Sam has been sharing crisps with in the library, and apparently he’s just found the roommate that’s always sexiling her. She’s waves to him, sheepishly, and Sam’s roommate groans at him to close the door because it’s letting in the light from where he’s lying face down in bed._

_Sam obediently moves into the corridor. If Sage’s mysterious hickey-giver had been Derek Hale then Winter is the female version of Stiles Stilinski, all lean and freckled and nerdy, with geek glasses that frame warm brown eyes and very fidgety hands. Sam doesn’t know why he’s still thinking about Teen Wolf._

_“Wheezy here’s all hung up on that guy who couldn’t get a shelf up on his first week here. And don’t worry, I’ve already warned her all about if he can’t get a shelf up there might be other things he can’t get up too but she’s adamant that he’s the one and apparently you know him. Jesus. I think I’m the only one with balls around here. Anyway, you’re going to introduce them because god knows I owe Wheezy a few nights of shagging and she’s pretty much the sweetest so if you try and get out of this I will cut off your non-existent balls.” Sam thinks about this._

_“Stop calling her wheezy.” He offers back, and Yasmin does that grin again, where Sam’s kind of wondering if she’s only been smiled at by dogs before because no human being smiles like that._

_“I knew you were a sweetheart. Here’s the deal; you go help this darling with her romantic troubles and then the four of us are going to be A Group. Like a clique. It’s going to be A Thing.”_

_“What if Anders already has friends?” Winter points out, quietly. ‘Anders’ is referring to the guy who couldn’t fix a shelf, who goes by his last name ‘Anderson’ and has so far refused to tell anyone what his first name is._

_“He doesn’t.” Sam and Yasmin say in unison. Yasmin holds her hand up for a fist bump and Sam is already bumping her fist before he realises he’s moving his arm._

_“How do you know?” Winter argues._

_“No-one knows what his first name is.” Sam points out. “Which means no-one knows him well enough to ask.”_

_“Shrewd, Sherlock.” Winter concedes, with a small smile. Sam wonders whether he might have had a friend this whole time and just hadn’t realised. When he thinks about Anders, upstairs, and the exchanged Christmas presents and the smiles, he feels heat rising in his face._

_Yasmin makes a noise like she’s physically pained. “Ugh. Can we keep him? Please?” She stage-whispers to Winter. “He hasn’t even asked about my face yet.”_

_“How strange. Not asking people personal questions as soon as you meet them.” Winter deadpans, and how did Sam not know she was sarcastic? Yasmin scoffs, unoffended._

_“In my defence, I was high as a kite.”_

_“When are you not?”_

_“Now who’s asking personal questions?”_

_“Anders?” Sam cuts in, when their banter doesn’t subside. Winter immediately starts trying to back down the hallway but Yasmin’s got her scary nails wrapped round Winter’s wrist before she’s taken two steps._

_“I’m in A Group with cowards.” Yasmin sniffs. “Sam barely leaves his room, Winter’s been crushing on a guy for like High-School long without saying anything and this Anders guy can’t even tell people his first name.”_

_“I leave my room.” Sam mutters, affronted._

_“Yeah, barely.” Yasmin snaps right back, and Sam feels sort of like he should be taking offence at this woman who he’s only known the best part of twelve hours judging him but she’s not exactly wrong._

_So much for quiet, scared and sweet. Looks like he’s going to have to settle for slightly social instead._

 

_"Matt's out." Is what Aaron says as soon as he opens the door to Neil's knock, already preparing to close it._

_"Cool. I came here to talk to you though." Aaron's face immediately pinches tight with worry._

_"What's happened to Andrew?" He demands, opening the door wider._

_"Nothing. As far as I know." Neil brushes past Aaron into his old dorm, ignoring the fact that Aaron didn't invite him in. "He's in class." Before Aaron can ask what the Hell Neil is doing, Neil's looking at his Biology notes with a weird blend of queasiness and interest. The notes are spread out all over the floor because Andrew might have an eidetic memory but Aaron didn't get that particular blessing/curse, and he has midterms he actually cares about unlike apparently everyone else on this sodding team._

_"What?" He snaps, when Neil doesn't explain why he's staring at his notes like it's a particularly disgusting museum display._

_"I remember having to learn all the different arteries and veins, how close they were to the surface, all that stuff." Despite himself, Aaron's a little intrigued; he genuinely loves Biology and it doesn't take much to get his interest._

_"Did you do Biology at Milport or something?" Neil looks startled._

_"Ah, no. I got taught this stuff by Lola. When I was eight."_

_"Not in this level of detail." Aaron argues, slightly affronted. Neil's expression lifts, become more humoured._

_"No. Didn't need to know how the circulatory system worked just how to sever it with a particularly sharp knife." His voice is for a second distant yet hard, and then he blinks and his normal closed-off expression is back. "Anyway. I came here to talk to you about this." Neil gestures between the two of them with a grimace._

_"There is no this." Aaron scoffs. For some reason this startles a laugh out of Neil._

_"You really are twins." He muses._

_"What?"_

_"That's what Andrew says whenever I refer to our relationship." Neil says, almost fondly. Aaron narrows his eyes at him._

_"You've been... Dating for what, a year now? And Andrew refuses to acknowledge you have a relationship?" Neil frowns._

_"Not like that he just. Doesn't do it verbally. It doesn't matter." Aaron really thinks it does matter but he's learning to ask before he asserts his own judgements. He'll bring it up next time they go to see Bee. He knows what it's like to be called nothing. To some extent, he even knows what it's like to be called nothing by Andrew. He knew now, in some capacity, Andrew had done and had been doing more to protect Aaron than he ever knew at the time, but that didn't change how little he'd valued Aaron's opinions or existence in general. It wasn't so much that Andrew had not lived up to Aaron's expectations as subverted them completely. While Aaron doesn't like Neil and he definitely doesn't trust him, he also doesn't want Andrew to drive Neil away because of stubbornness when Neil's clearly the only person who Andrew can stand for long periods of time._

_"Hurry up Josten I need to get back to studying."_

_"I wanted to apologise." Neil says, eventually. Aaron was expecting a gun to his head more than he was expecting this. "Except I'm kind of shit at that. So I thought maybe I could teach you how to drive as an apology instead."_

_"An apology for what?" Aaron asks, baffled. Neil pulls a face._

_"Are you going to make me list it?" When Aaron just continues to stare blankly at him, Neil sighs. "For throwing Tilda in your face, for interfering in your relationship with Katelyn, for lying, for endangering everyone on this team, for persuading Andrew to go to the Hemmicks, for not talking to you much afterwards and for stealing one of your shots last week. Did I about cover it?" He asks, sarcastically._

_"The shot was the real grievance." Aaron shoots back, unimpressed. "You don't have a car. How are you going to teach me to drive?"_

_"I bought Andrew's car. I get a key." Aaron's eyes widen._

_"_ You _bought Andrew's car? What the fuck Neil?" Neil shrugs sheepishly._

_"I thought I was going to die at the end of the year so I didn't need the money anymore."_

_"Andrew doesn't accept gifts that aren't food related." Aaron disagrees. Neil, if possible, looks even more sheepish._

_"I traded him for not taking cracker dust anymore. Wanted to limit his addictions."_

_"Why didn't you take him off cigarettes they'll kill him much faster." Aaron complains. "Bastard." He adds, almost as an afterthought._

_"It'd ruin his aesthetic." At that, Neil Josten succeeds in the previously impossible and makes Aaron laugh._

_"Oh thank fuck you also think the all black is a little much sometimes. You know he wore a skull cap to meet the team on our first day here?"_

_"What's a skull cap?" Aaron sits down by his laptop and does a quick image search for him. The vindication he feels when Neil I-am-physically-repelled-away-from-fashionable-clothing Josten looks horrified is the most satisfying feeling he's had all day. "I don't think I'd wear that even if I had no other clothes."_

_"I would if only because everyone would think I was Andrew." Aaron admits. "I've bought the same tie as him for this year's Christmas banquet just so I can pretend I'm him if anyone tries to talk to me."_

_"Can you even do a good Andrew impression?" Neil asks, not convinced. Aaron does his best to shut down all his facial expressions and stare blankly at the wall in front of him. "Oh my goodness! It's almost like you're tw-"_

_"Don't." Aaron cuts him off, unamused. Well, maybe a little amused but Josten doesn't need to know that. "Is Andrew ok with me learning to drive in his car?" He asks, suspicious._

_"When I asked he said I'd never convince you so it didn't matter what he thought."_

_"Are you any good at driving?" Neil's hand goes to the side of his stomach for a second, rubbing at the skin there._

_"I'm better than Nicky and obey more traffic rules than Andrew." Neil offers._

_"Good enough."_

_Almost two semesters later and Sam’s not entirely sure he remembers what it was like to not be in A Group. Anders’ (who still goes by Anders to everyone except Winter, who he lets call him ‘Tal’ but all of them at least know what his first name is) parents have lent him their apartment for a couple of weeks while they join in on some sort of pilgrimage (Anders hadn’t explained and only Yasmin had asked, only to be shut down) so Anders had invited the three of them up to stay with him. It was nice, because Anders could have just invited Winter but he was as invested in their Group as much as Yasmin was, as much as all of them were to be honest._

_Sam was more comfortable being around them than he was anywhere else, but he was still an introvert at heart. Which meant he got up early and went for a walk by himself round the city every day, just to clear his head. He went a different way every time, because for some reason he was falling more and more in love with this city (city? Town?) every time he discovered something new about it, and he wanted to explore it all._

_There was a café he found, after about half an hour of walking, which he was about to go in to until he saw a sign for what looked like an ice-cream parlour round the corner. Sam felt the way the sweat was beading on his forehead in the heat and his stomach concurred with an emphatic grumble so he went there instead, pushing his way through the door eagerly._

_Inside was bright and colourful, with tables and chairs that looked slightly rickety but very homely. Even though this town was pretty large, it was clear this place was the kind of place that had regulars and meant something to the community. There were so many homely vibes coming from the whole place. Sam loves it immediately._

_“Hi there! Can I help you?” Sam stops taking the place in and looks behind the counter. There’s a young woman stood there, around his age, her hair held back by a simple headband instead of the hairnets he usually associates with people dealing with food. There’s something about the dark circles under her eyes and the weary slant of her posture but real, genuine smile that makes Sam want to draw._

_He’s not sure even his Group knows about his drawings. It’s not something he was encouraged to do; his father was sure it was going to lead him into being ‘one of those prissy little gay boys’ so it’s become something he does only when the need to draw overcomes the weird lingering bad feeling he gets whenever he does._

_He blushes, realising he’s been staring for slightly too long and shuffles closer to the counter. Luckily there’s only a couple of other people in the store to witness his embarrassment, and they seem far too interested in shoving their tongues down each other’s throats to care about him. “Um, do you have a recommendation?” Sam manages to stutter out, gesturing at the ice-creams on display._

_The woman sucks her bottom lip into her mouth thoughtfully, looking him up and down. Sam thinks the heat must be getting to her too, if the way the back of her neck is going splotchy is any indication. “You look like the kind of person who’s into vanilla-ry things, right?” She smiles at him again and then her expression blanks before he can return it, looking mortified. “Oh my goodness I’m so sorry I meant in terms of ice cream I wasn’t trying to- Shit.”_

_“What else would it be in terms of?” Sam asks, bewildered. The woman buries her face in her hands, her hair sweeping past her shoulders at the bottom to help. She peeks at him through her fingers and then waggles her eyebrows, comically enough that Sam finds himself laughing even before he’s made the connection between that and the looks Anders and Winter give each other when they think no-one’s looking._

_“I promise I wasn’t trying to be creepy.” The woman says, laughing a little with him but still looking embarrassed as hell. Sam thinks it’s adorable. Now he’s closer to her he can see the pretty impressive muscles she’s got in her arms, that he doesn’t think are just from scooping ice-cream, and the freckles that dot all over her visible skin._

_“Don’t worry.” Sam assures. The woman bites her lip again._

_“So, ice-cream? I think you’d like something classic, like Honeycomb or maybe the white chocolate and raspberry?”_

_“They both sound good.” Sam admits. “Can I have a scoop of each?” The woman rings up the order and then freezes._

_“Ugh I meant to not charge you for this-”_

_“It’s fine.” Sam says firmly. The woman seems unsure._

_“Can I at least buy you a coffee sometime? To apologise?” Sam smiles shyly at her._

_“Can I have a name to go with that coffee?” He replies, as she scoops out his ice cream, and Sam is more than a little impressed by the way her muscles ripple as she does._

_“Eunoia.”_

_“Sam.” He offers back. She hands him the ice cream, but doesn’t quite let go of it yet._

_“Sam.” She says, testing the name. “It suits you.” Sam doesn’t know whether that’s a compliment or not. “You free now?” Sam blinks at her, perplexed._

_“Are you?” He says, pointedly looking at the counter separating them._

_“I’ll be done by the time you finish your ice cream.” Sam wonders what weird shifts they have going on at this place but doesn’t question it, finding himself excited to get to know someone, for quite possibly the first time in his life._

_And if he spends most of the time that he’s supposed to be eating the ice cream doodling Eunoia in his sketchbook, well, only the two of them are going to know._

_And maybe that couple in the corner if they’d stopped to disengage their mouths._

 

“You actually taught Aaron how to drive?” Andrew says, a little bit stunned and trying not to show it.

“You said I could.” Neil says quickly and Andrew nods, but sends him a look that clearly says ‘I didn’t know though’. “We had the same free blocks on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Plus Aaron’s a fast learner. We just took the car out when you were in class. I figured you knew.” Andrew narrowed his eyes at Aaron.

“You could drive for our last two years? Why was I stuck driving you everywhere?”

“You didn’t?” Aaron replies, frowning. “The only time you drove me places was to go to practice or to Eden’s.”

“Yes but if you could drive why would you still come to Eden’s with us?” Andrew says, genuinely confused and not liking being so. Even Neil looks like he knows the answer and Andrew’s being particularly dense.

“Because I wanted to.” Aaron answers, shortly, and Neil and Nicky and Katelyn all grin at each other because; progress!

“It doesn’t feel complete without Kevin here too.” Nicky says after a moment where Andrew’s still glaring at his glass like it’s offended him as he tries to wrap his head round this new information.

“Maybe next time you scheme us all into a surprise reunion you can get him too.” Aaron says sarcastically. At Nicky’s excited expression Aaron points his finger in Nicky’s face. “No, nope that was not an idea-” Nicky’s already bounding off to talk to Erik, shouting something about ‘Weihnachten’. “Fuck.” Aaron says, thunking his head on the table again. Katelyn runs a hand through his hair comfortingly, although it’s shaking slightly because of how much she’s laughing.

“We’re having Christmas this year.” Andrew says, in the same tone of voice one might deliver the news of a death, and everyone on the table looks at him in surprise. “Can you come?”

“Does coming mean I have to do Christmas next year?” Aaron says, shrewdly.

“It’s Wymack’s next year.” Neil assures.

“Has it really been another five years since we beat the shitty prick already?” Aaron muses. “They always say you get fonder of dead people as time passes but…”

“Yeah no Riko’s still a massive asshole.” Neil agrees, and how in holy hell did Andrew not notice his brother doesn’t hate Neil anymore?

Christ, he’s getting old.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment and tell me what you think :)


	14. Sam deals with the aftermath of a stabbing, again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop guys you know how I said there was no more angst from here on out?  
> I might have  
> Lied
> 
> Don't kill me?

They got off the plane and took a taxi back to their apartment. The cats weren’t being dropped off until tomorrow, and their next game wasn’t for three days. They’d have to get up early for practice, but they could sleep for now.

Two steps in the door, Neil got a phone-call.

Just under ten minutes later, a taxi comes to pick Neil up and take him back to the airport. Andrew can still feel the ghost of Neil’s distracted goodbye kiss on his right cheek. He thinks maybe Neil was aiming for his lips and missed, and can’t stop the irrational thought that wonders whether he’ll ever get an answer.

He blames it on how exhausted his body is versus how keyed up his head is whirring and doesn’t continue with his original plan to sleep off the jetlag. It doesn’t seem half so appealing without Neil in the bed with him. Instead he picks up the envelope they forgot to post on their way out of the door (just because Andrew never forgets anything doesn’t mean the right memory is always triggered at the right time, especially as he’s so easily distracted these days by smiling lips and healing scars) to go to Germany and decides he might as well deliver it himself. He checks the time, not unreasonable, and knows through Neil and Eunoia’s texts that Sam is alone in his and Eunoia’s apartment, Eunoia having left for her Hen-Party-Weekend-Thing that she’d half-tried to invite Neil to. Neil had declined on the fact that they’d still be in Germany when she left, and also that Neil didn’t know any of Eunoia’s friends apart from Rosa and it was hardly like they were friends.

Sam is quiet, shy and kind, which means Andrew might get a free beer for his troubles, but none of the usually synonymous chatter. He surprises himself with how much he tolerates Sam. It’s not the same as the others, those who if he had no other choice he might reluctantly label family, even if his definition doesn’t include all the same people as Neil’s. His family grew on him like lichen; he can now understand, even defend if he feels like it, their notable qualities, but he would not like any of them had he not gone through such a journey with them, except for maybe Neil, Bee and Renee. Sam though, Sam, Andrew thinks he might have allowed to sit at his lunch-table if they were back in high school.

Andrew shakes off his thoughts once again and locks up the apartment behind him. He knows Neil won’t text him until he touches down safely off the plane, so he leaves his phone inside, going out with just his wallet, a packet of cigarettes but no lighter, only a couple of knives, the worn fraying coat Nicky had bought him for Christmas while he was in Easthaven and the envelope that holds their affirmative reply to Sam and Eunoia’s wedding.

 

_There have been very few times in Andrew and Neil’s…_ Nothing _that Neil has responded to ‘yes or no?’ with no. So few, in fact, that Andrew can count them on one hand. It’s a point of pride for him, even as he found himself glad that Neil saying no to something proved he was capable of saying no to anything he didn’t want. It made Andrew trust his ‘yes’s even more._

_The last time Neil had said no to something had been his lonely fifth year at Palmetto, and it’s been a good while since then. Andrew’s fairly certain he’s mapped and scouted all of Neil’s boundaries now, learnt his nuances enough that he knows what is a boundary one day, might not be one the next. He’ll never stop asking if he’s even slightly unsure of course, but he thinks he pretty much has it down. He wonders if the idea of knowing Neil so completely would’ve scared him off from pursuing the relationship (_ Oh, Bee will be proud. Look at you naming it _) in the first place._

_He doubts it. There were few things that would’ve made Neil not worth pursuing._

_Neil flops on the sofa next to him, jarring Andrew’s arm to the point where he almost drops the spoon holding his latest scoop of Eunoia’s latest ice cream (who is he kidding, he’d never let the ice cream fall to the floor), and Andrew stubbornly finishes the spoonful before looking at him. Neil is_ staring _with that stupid fond look again, but luckily the junkie speaks before Andrew forcibly shoves him off the sofa. He holds up a white card for Andrew to see._

_“It’s Eunoia and Sam’s official wedding invitation. Apparently we were the only people apart from his crazy recluse great-aunt that they actually sent a paper invitation to.”_

_“I’m still not letting you get Facebook.” Neil pouts but resigns himself to a social-media-devoid fate (apart from Twitter but thankfully he hasn’t realised you can make your own account on there without paying yet), something Andrew is sure is the only reason Neil’s PR team send Andrew Christmas presents. Though, he might not get one this year considering they still haven’t sorted out the whole photo shenanigans. He’s got to get through Halloween with Nicky and Erik before he starts worrying about Christmas, however. Neil swings his legs onto Andrew’s lap as he leans his head back on the armrest and closes his eyes, apparently content to lay there in silence while Andrew eats ice cream._

_Neil has always been content and comfortable with Andrew’s silences, but it’s rare that he initiates them. Maybe it’s because of that, that Andrew looks mournfully at the slowly liquidising ice cream and then turns his attention to Neil’s feet. Andrew’s never given a foot rub, but he figures Neil’s never received one so he probably won’t complain._

_“Foot rub, yes or no?” He asks, bored, hands already hovering over Neil’s feet, content in the knowledge that he’ll receive the affirmative. Instead there’s no response._

_He flicks a confused look to Neil, wondering if the idiot had actually managed to fall asleep in five seconds flat, to find him glaring at something in the middle distance, a dark, hateful expression on his face. He appears to be struggling with the decision and then sighs harshly, disappointment covering his features._

_“No.” Instantly, Andrew’s hands are back on the sofa cushions, Andrew’s mind whirling about whether he should shove Neil’s legs off of him or whether that would make it worse. Neil solves the decision for him by tucking his legs towards his chest, curling up at the other end of the sofa but keeping his eyes on Andrew’s. Andrew tries to remember other times that he’s touched Neil’s feet; in passing sure, those feet clenched over his calves, or twining with his under the covers, but draws up a cautious blank on times he’s purposefully sought out his feet. Apparently, Neil can still surprise him._

_Neil runs a weary hand through his own hair as his other arm hugs his knees. “Neil?” Andrew asks, cautious. In response, Neil tugs off one of his socks, and presents the sole of his foot to Andrew. On this foot, Andrew knows already, there is a thin scar on the top of his foot that is mirrored by a slightly thicker scar on the sole._

_“Have I ever told you the story behind this scar?” Like Andrew’s own trauma, Neil still remembers in startling detail receiving each of the numerous scars that mark his body. Their truth game had been ongoing, though it wasn’t as regimented; neither could remember whose turn it was anymore. Neil’s scars, in particular, had always been grounding to Andrew; no-one else felt or looked like Neil. When Andrew was having a day that was bad enough that not only could he not let Neil touch_ him _, the idea of_ any _bare skin contact, even if he was the one doing the touching, was repulsive, Neil would offer him the story behind one of his scars, in order to keep him grounded. Over the years, they’d worked down most of Neil’s torso and back, but they hadn’t yet got down to his feet. Andrew had assumed it was an unlucky knife throw at some point during his time on the run, but apparently this scar had more background._

_“Do you want to tell me?” Andrew offers back, giving Neil a way out and an assurance that Andrew won’t be upset by it. It’s a given at this point, but it never hurts to reiterate. Neil looks away as he considers his options, and tugs the sock back onto his foot. Andrew thinks that’s it, when Neil starts speaking._

_“I’ve been declared medically dead three times.” Andrew hears the words hit him and recoils, a full body flinch at the idea of Neil, at any point in his life, being a corpse. Neil, who was scarred and traumatised and only half a person at the worst points in his life, had never broken. Not in Andrew’s eyes. But Neil dead? Neil, still and motionless and cold; that was for Andrew’s nightmares only. Not real life._

_Neil takes a breath, lets it out, speaks again. “The first time I don’t really remember. It didn’t leave a scar anyway.” Andrew notes that non-story in the back of his head for later. Neil hooks a hand in his t-shirt collar and pulls it down so that he can tap at the bullet wound underneath his collarbone. “That one was blood loss. Mum said it was the only time she considered taking me to the hospital.” Considered?_ Considered _? Mary Wesninski- Hatford- whatever,_ considered _taking her dying son to the hospital? How very kind of her. “I was lucky, one of her contacts was close by and my heart had only been out a couple of minutes by the time they managed to start the transfusion and get it restarted.” Neil chewed on his lip for a second. “She went back for the last stash we’d left to pay for a bulletproof vest and all of the contact’s work. Possibly the first reckless thing she’d done since we first ran.”_

_“Did she apologise?” At Neil’s questioning look, Andrew elaborates. “For putting you in a situation where you got shot.”_

_“Are you kidding? As soon as I could get out of bed she beat me to shit for being such an idiot.” Andrew stiffens to stone at the easy acknowledgement of Mary’s abuse. Neil shifts in his seat and then clears his throat. Andrew’s eyes snap back to him even though none of the tension leaves his spine. “Anyway, the final time was when I got that scar.”_

_Neil’s hands shake slightly from where they’re now resting in his lap. Andrew scoots closer but doesn’t touch._

_“Neil, yes or no?”_

_“Yes.” Neil agrees and Andrew places his hand on the back of Neil’s neck. Neil lets out a long breath but keeps his head down. “I was Stefan then. Some of my father’s people caught up to us, he’d even sent Lola that time. Mum had planned our escape route if we couldn’t get back to a car; there was a river that ran through the forest by the edge of town and into a network of water tunnels. They would have to scout out all of them, which would mean spreading their man power to the point that Mum could probably take down whoever would be waiting at the end of whichever tunnel we picked. It wasn’t her best plan; it was why we stuck to big cities after that.” Neil nudges forward until his forehead is resting on Andrew’s shoulder. It’s unlike Neil to need to hide his face; it’s disconcerting. Andrew’s still not sure where this story is going._

 

There’s no one in the streets. No one, which means Lola has either killed them all or bribed them off. Stefan doesn’t know which is worse. His mother’s grasp on his wrist hasn’t faltered even though Lola’s high-pitched mocking laughter is chasing them down every alleyway. He tries to remember a time when his feet were soft enough that sneaking around barefoot like this on the rough streets would’ve hurt. He can’t. Their only chance now is stealth, which is why his mother’s gun is in her waistband not her hand, but also why the knife replacing it is covered in red.

They reach the edge of the town and still, looking towards the forest. It’s about a field length away, but it’s a field length with no cover. It’s a bright night, no light pollution in these tiny villages, and their choice is simple. Run, and risk being seen, or crawl, and risk being overtaken. If his mother was on his own, Stefan knew she’d take the latter option.

Then again, if she was on her own, she wouldn’t be here at all.

Stefan’s fast. He’s always been fast. He can do this.

He raises his eyes to meet his mother’s and sees that she’s come to the same conclusion. She lets go of his wrist.

“Run.”

 

_“The problem was that Lola has the best aim of anybody I’ve ever met.” Neil says hollowly. He’s dragged his gaze up to meet Andrew’s, which is an improvement, but his eyes are lost to memories, which is not. “She shot my mother. It got her in the shoulder, not the heart, but considering Lola was making an almost blind shot from a field length away…” Some of the pieces are coming together in Andrew’s head._

_“You tried to go back for her, didn’t you?” Neil winces, and Andrew closes his eyes in a brief plea for patience. “Good to know you’ve always been an unwanted martyr.”_

_“Lola had time to catch up and one of her throwing knives went through my foot, hard enough that it went into the grass underneath.” Neil shudders._

 

There’s panic making him clumsy as Stefan tears the knife out of his foot. The pain he ignores with practice, he’s had worse. But if he can’t run… If he can’t run-

He palms the knife in his hand as he flips over to see Lola advancing on him. “Poor little Junior. Mommy’s shot but don’t worry, Daddy’s missing you an awful lot.” Lola’s so wrapped up in her own excitement that she doesn’t dive out of the way of his mother’s bullet. It punches her solidly in the stomach. Stefan’s on his feet and running before she’s even hit the floor.

He doesn’t know where his mother is but he can hardly put weight on his foot; there’s something wrong with the bones and each step almost causes him to black out. He’s moving as fast as he can through the trees as he hears the crashing and shouting of the rest of his father’s men tear after them but he has to put Lola’s knife to good use before he makes it to the river, burying it in the thigh of the first person who tries to drag him away. His duffel bag isn’t waterproof, but considering this was their escape plan he’s had everything inside wrapped in plastic since they arrived.

His mother is waiting on the bank and she shoves him into the water without ceremony. “Swim Stefan! Swim!” There’s gunfire, too much for it to all be from his mother but his luck seems to have finally caught up with him because they make it into the water tunnels before he blacks out.

His mother grabs him by the wrist again to drag him through whatever plan she’d set up beforehand. He kicks in the water to help her along obediently but it’s only the cold of the water that’s keeping him conscious. At least with his extremities going numb he can’t feel his foot anymore.

A slap sends him reeling back to alertness before he even realised he’d just been floating through the water. “If you cannot run I will leave you behind.” His mother hisses in his ear. “Do you understand me?”

Stefan is more scared than he’s ever been in his life. Not once has his mother ever threatened to leave him before. He wouldn’t survive two minutes without her and she knows that. He has to be able to run. He has to.

 

_“Did you get an infection from the water or something?” Andrew prods gently, when Neil’s clearly about to start hyperventilating if he thinks about not being able to run any longer._

_“What?” Neil asks, bleary from fighting to stay in the present._

_“You said you died three times.”_

_“Oh.” Neil paused. “No. One of my father’s men was waiting at the end of our tunnel, but we didn’t see him until we’d already come out of the water. Mum made us stay in the tunnels for three days in the hopes they’d give up. He had a Taser and, well, water and electricity doesn’t mix.” Andrew doesn’t know quite what to say to that. “Mum killed him and then gave me CPR. I was so sure she’d leave me behind but luckily we managed to hotwire a car just after we’d got out of the river so I had long enough to stitch up my foot. Not much I could do about the bone splintering but it healed eventually so.”_

_“Let me guess; you used whisky as an anaesthetic.” Andrew says sardonically, to give himself time to recover from the latest horror story of Neil’s past. Neil gives him an odd look._

_“Of course not. We couldn’t stop anywhere to buy anything that close after being found.”_

_“You stitched up your own knife wound, after having no food for three days and having recently returned from the dead, with no painkillers at all?” Neil frowns._

_“You make it sound worse than it was.” Andrew looks at him. “No, you’re right it was awful.” Neil lets out a sigh again and some of his tension eases, more light coming back into his eyes. Andrew decides, for his own sake, not to ask what Neil had stitched up his foot_ with _. “I’m never going to run from you.” Andrew startles at this admission, not following the jump in conversation. A tiny smile threatens to curve Neil’s mouth but it drops pretty quickly. “Sometimes I want to run_ away _. But never from you. I need to be able to run though.” He chews his lip. “I don’t like having my feet restrained.”_

_“I won’t ask again.” Andrew replies, his voice low. Neil frowns, shakes his head._

_“Not today. Maybe not for a while. But I want- I want to work on this.”_

_“You just want a foot rub.” Andrew scoffs and thankfully Neil smiles again. And_ goddamn Josten _because it’s only been two minutes but Andrew can only relax at the sight of that smile._

_“We are going to the wedding right?” Neil asks, eventually, when the two of them have looked their fill (for the moment at least)._

_“Can’t be worse than going to Nicky’s.” Andrew points out and Neil agrees with a huff, even though neither of them had hated attending that at all._

_“Did I tell you that Thea called me to thank us for making friends with people who don’t play Exy? Apparently Kevin is still using me and you as role models, and now he’ll occasionally offer a greeting to the other people at the dog park.” Kevin had rang Andrew and mentioned that himself, but Andrew doesn’t admit that. It’s not like him and Kevin are friends._

_Probably._

_Oh who fucking knows anymore? It’s not like Andrew would know what to do with a friend if he had one so he might as well label the rest of his relationships with the people he doesn’t actively despise as ‘friends’. Not that he’ll ever tell Matt that. It would probably send the tall backliner into premature cardiac arrest._

Wait a second…

 

The first knife, Andrew blocks for Aaron. He doesn’t dwell on it much anymore, possibly because he’s in a lot less fights these days, but when all rational thought leaves his head to allow instinctive defence in to avoid the knife to the thigh, his driving thought is that he has to defend himself because who else is going to protect Aaron?

The avoidance of that knife is clearly what the knife-wielder wanted though because the duck away pushes him right into the path of an oncoming fist and- _multiple attackers goddamnit Minyard Neil would’ve spotted them a mile out_ \- it’s a hard enough blow to put stars in his eyes and he thinks he bites his tongue. It’s not hard enough to stop him from whipping his own knives out but that’s all the time he has for offensive before he’s dodging another knife, this time from the second attacker, who’s aiming to kill not injure, and Neil’s already on his mind and he knows he’s got to get out of this alive because he’s not sure even the other Foxes would be able to stop Neil from turning into the monster he still has nightmares about to get revenge.

Renee’s phantom hands are on his elbows, gentle touches correcting his stance as he makes a stab of his own, which lands, but not where he’d aimed, going into the first person’s armpit instead of between his third and fourth ribs, as the man manages to almost vault backwards out of Andrew’s way. Whoever these people are, it’s not some drunken mad fans of one of the opponents to Andrew and Neil’s team, or even some of Neil’s father’s people. They are trained killers, and not in the flashy way of the Wesninski circle. They’re not toying with him.

He’s not sure if this is a fight he can win.

The all-too-easy-to-conjure image of Nicky’s devastated face inspires him to dodge the next two blows, how he’s still the first person Kevin calls when he’s having a panic attack the one after that, the way Wymack had gripped his shoulder and said “I’m proud of you” not when he’d got signed onto a pro-team but at his graduation that he knew both of them were a little surprised he’d survived until brings him to a total of five near-misses, and the way Bee had torn up when he’d bought her mother’s day presents for the first time get him through the next three but then his luck runs out, and while he manages to cut into the second guy’s thigh deep enough that he’ll bleed out within minutes, it gives the first guy the chance to slide a knife, smooth as if into butter, into Andrew’s back, and presumably through his kidney if the agony it causes is any indication.

Andrew has a high pain tolerance, too high, but he’s still not Neil. The knife tears its way back out again and Andrew is letting loose a hoarse scream of pain before he can stop himself. He’s run out of people to get up for. The first man kicks him in his weak- _It’s not a weak knee Andrew. You had a few ops on it because of the asshole that fouled on you but it’s not a weakness_ \- no matter what Neil says Andrew knows he goes down easier if that knee is targeted nowadays- and Andrew’s on the ground in, he notices bemusedly, the alleyway he’d first threatened Sam in.

_Sorry Neil._

 

Anders and Winter are arriving tomorrow. Anders’ parents’ apartment, now his and Eunoia’s (if he doesn’t think about it too much it’s not weird and just a good deal despite the fact it took them three months to completely air out the apartment from all the spices Anders' parents burnt in there for ‘spiritual alignment’) is going to house all of Sam’s friends for the next week and a half, which is good because he knows he’d spend the whole time moping if his friends weren’t coming. Eunoia’s been gone less than 24 hours and Sam already misses her. He thinks it’s probably because he knows he won’t be seeing her for almost two weeks now. Stupid traditions. Especially because it also means he can’t go Eunoia’s ice-cream store for two weeks either and risk bumping into her, and moping’s no fun when you can’t wallow in ice-cream.

Goodness he’s being pathetic.

He laughs a little, thinking of the unimpressed look that would be on Andrew’s face if he ever relayed this internal monologue to the goalkeeper. At least he’d be silently judgemental; Yasmin would probably tear him a new one. Despite having met them all before, Eunoia still hasn’t experienced the wackiness that is Yasmin not-sober and Sam’s excited for her to meet intoxicated Yasmin almost as much as he was for her to meet sober Yasmin. He hasn’t actually met up with Yasmin since she came up for his pity-party after he lost his job and laughed at him for temporarily working at Starbucks; she doesn’t exactly get a lot of time off from work. He doesn’t think she really believes that he’s friends with Andrew Minyard and Neil Josten, or that they’re dating ( _Sam please, two traumatised short guys falling for each other when they could have banged Kevin Day? Not likely_ ) and definitely not that they’ll be at his wedding ( _Me being there is already a PR nightmare, how many paparazzi do you want at this bop?_ ) and he’s looking forward to her reaction.

If he’s honest though, he’s slightly more worried about how pissed Anders is that Sam proposed to Eunoia ( _Winter and I have been dating longer and I haven’t popped the question yet why’d have to put so much pressure on everything Sam goddamn you’re supposed to be too shy to one-up me like this_ ) and if he continues whining about it for much longer Sam might just reveal that Winter’s planning on proposing to him straight after Sam’s wedding. Except he wouldn’t because it’s not Winter’s fault her boyfriend is an idiot. An idiot Sam would dive in front of an oncoming train for but an idiot nonetheless.

Sam sighs and turns off the TV, not even sure what he was pretending to watch, and shrugs on a coat, hat and gloves instead. A walk might just clear his head.

 

The man swears in Japanese as he swings a leg over Andrew’s hips and straddles him from behind, grabbing a fistful of Andrew’s hair to pull his face far enough off the ground that he can draw a knife across his throat. Andrew doesn’t know if it’s the sickeningly familiar weight across his back or what Bee and Neil would call progress with quiet proud smiles, but Andrew _doesn’t want to die_. He doesn’t want to die, not because it would leave Aaron without a protector, or Kevin without a support system or make Wymack cry or cause Renee’s eyes to go dark or devastate Nicky or destroy Bee. Not even because it might just kill Neil Josten along with him. Andrew doesn’t want to die because he wants to live. For him. For Andrew Joseph Minyard, for all the messed up shit he’s had to go through and everything he’s survived and fucking _earnt_. He _deserves_ to live; he deserves to want his life playing stickball and his nice apartment and his cats and his beautiful man.

He wants to walk away from this, to get to the hospital and have to deal with his whole convoluted family and probably most of Neil’s too, and possibly have to talk Neil out of starting another mob war or at least persuade him to only start it with his help, and be laid off Exy for a few nice long months where it’ll just be him and the cats and he can finally finish that book he’s been writing about the failures of the justice system while watching his junkie run round on the TV screen. He _wants_.

Andrew’s strong hands grasp the man’s neck and _twist_ killing him instantly.

Then he blacks out.

 

Sam locks up his apartment with considerable effort; carrying a sketchbook and his drawing pencils with him is not conducive to locking a door. He’s struck with the sudden urge to briefly sketch the door-handle, thinking about how many memories must be attached to it. He thinks about Eunoia swinging him round in a circle when the papers had gone through for this place and catching one of his jean legs on the door-handle, ripping a hole through them. He thinks about leaning his head on the door for a moment after Eunoia had already gone inside, sorting through his thoughts after Neil and Andrew had dropped their ‘Eunoia’s parents were murdered’ bombshell. He thinks about Eunoia coming to find him on the doorstep, only just managing to make it home after a panic attack at his work Christmas party, and her coaxing him through the door with soft words and softer kisses.

When he blinks back into the present, he’s drawn the door-handle, a section of jean with a hole through, a flat line with the top of his head pressed against it and a pair of lips he’d know blind, around it. He smiles, closes the sketchbook and heads down the stairs, humming a little. He still needs the walk to get out of his funk for the night, but maybe not quite so desperately as before.

The first block passes without incident, but as he gets closer to the park, the hair on the back of his neck begins to stand up on end. He wraps his coat closer around himself and pulls his hat down so it’s covering his ears properly. As is his habit, he glances into the alleyway Andrew had held him against the wall in, and stops dead.

There’s two bodies on the ground.

Sam knows that people often crash in this alleyway on their way back from the pub across the park; it’s a popular destination with the homeless due to how high the rooves of the neighbouring houses reach; providing much needed shelter. Sam’s delivered food from a soup kitchen here once.

Then he sees the shock of white blond hair almost completely hidden under one of the men’s bodies, and how unnaturally still they both look.

He thinks _Andrew_ and runs.

 

“What the _fuck_ is with you people?!” Andrew comes round somewhat blearily to Sam Goldsmith pressing his coat into Andrew’s wound. In Andrew’s eye-line is Sam’s phone, which is still lit up with the end-call screen of his call to 911. “This is a nice neighbourhood! Why do you keep getting stabbed!” Sam takes a deep breath. Andrew wonders if he knows he’s talking aloud. “Well done Samuel just blame the guy who’s been stabbed in the gut you’re lucky he’s still unconscious or he’d probably be snapping your neck too. Even so, it’s getting to the point where the police are probably going to think I’m involved in some way. This is ridiculous. There hadn’t been a single stabbing in ten years before you two moved here!” Andrew can hear sirens. “Oh thank God. Still means I’m stuck with the telling Neil duty. I can’t tell which of them is scarier.” Andrew blacks out again after seeing the ambulance stop and a paramedic jump out of the vehicle, realising absently that Sam must have somehow managed to get the body of the other man off him, despite the fact that it was 100% dead 6’5 weight and Sam’s not exactly… Athletic.

Sam finds himself being interviewed by the police for the second time in a year, and isn’t exactly surprised when they insist there’s going to be further questions. At least he can call Neil from his own phone this time. Neil doesn’t pick up, and Sam wonders where he is as the ringing goes straight to voicemail. He doesn’t leave a message, not trusting his voice right now, and texts Neil instead. He texts Eunoia next and is unsurprised to not get a response from her either; at this point in the evening of her hen party he’ll be surprised if she’s even conscious.

Sam sits in the waiting-room, a friend’s life out of his hands, alone, again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I really wanted to have Andrew fight for himself??? And I thought it wasn't very realistic to put it in a 'past' scene; it could have only happened at this stage in his healing process. I hope that makes sense.
> 
> Sam just wants to get married. He doesn't need this right now. Bless him. This is dotted with some... Hooks. I hope I made them obvious enough but still subtle? I don't know.
> 
> Tell me what you think!


	15. Sam and three phonecalls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of this is about a trial in the past. Despite wanting to be a Biologist and being the daughter of a lawyer I have no idea about stabbing injuries or how courts work so just suspend disbelief with me.
> 
> I hope you all had/are having great holidays/Christmases/weeks :)

_Sam’s phone rang, and he battled with relief and disappointment in equal measure that it was Neil’s caller ID and not Eunoia's lighting the screen. He put the phone to his ear._

_“Is he safe?” Neil demands, and Sam makes a disbelieving noise of protest._

_“Neil, I found him under the body of someone who according to the police system died when he was 15 in some obscure village in Japan. I have no idea whether people are about to storm the building like in one of the Bourne films or if I should be rallying for the zombie apocalypse. I have_ no clue _whatsoever.”_

_“The zombie apocalypse is one of the few things Andrew still found interesting on his meds.” Neil muses, but there’s a manic quality to his voice that sends shivers up Sam’s spine. “Just stay with him till I get there.”_

_“Where are you?” There’s small sounds of a scuffle and a squawk of protest from Neil and then a vaguely familiar voice replaces the Exy player’s._

_“Sam, it’s Allison. We met in Greece and you rambled embarrassingly about your fiancée?” Sam doesn’t think she needed to add the clarification. “Neil’s at my house because I had a miscarriage and was kind of a wreck about it.” Sam notices the way she’s slurring her syllables as his heart clenches in sorrow. Before he can express any kind of condolence, Allison ploughs on. “But of course the monster had to go and get himself stabbed-”_

_“Don’t call him that.” Neil’s voice comes over the line, a soft reprimand. Allison makes a scoffing noise._

_“Lover boy is getting the next flight home but he won’t be there till the morning.”_

_“Allison…” Neil tries, conflicted._

_“I’m fine. Minyard needs you more right now.”_

_“You’ll have to visit as soon as Andrew’s out of hospital.” Neil compromises, sounding like even this concession is breaking him in half. Sam clears his throat awkwardly._

_“Do you want the latest updates on him?” Sam tries, glad that he has some like really weirdly positive news._

_“No need.” Neil says. “I’m the one who sorted out the kidney.”_

_“Of course you did.” Sam feels the strange urge to cry. “Can you please tell me what the hell is going on?”_

_“It was a hit to try and get at me.” Neil says, eventually._

_“Because of your father?” Sam asks. Neil makes an affirmative noise. “Do I need to worry about them coming back?”_

_“They won’t come after you and Eunoia.” Neil says, sounding uncomfortable, and Sam sighs._

_“Neil, I don’t care. You’re a friend. I want to know if you and Andrew are going to be safe.” Neil makes a surprised noise and Allison barks a laugh and mutters something about ‘that look you get when someone does something nice still hasn’t changed’._

_“We’ll be safe.”_

_“Ok. I’ll stay here then.” Sam thinks about his friends arriving in the morning and decides he’s going to need so much more caffeine._

_“Thanks Sam.”_

 

Andrew woke three days later, sore and unimpressed with the hospital’s painkillers (or perhaps impressed with his own tolerance). He didn’t open his eyes straight away, taking time to sort out his feelings before facing the music. And wasn’t that just a testament to his healing over the years; the idea that he had feelings at all to sort out.

There was the ever-present uncomfortable crawling feeling that came over his skin whenever he was in a hospital, magnified by the fact he was the one who’d been unconscious and vulnerable this time, and diminished by his trust that he was safe (he could hear Neil’s breathing next to him, knew he remembered Sam getting him help). He was also somewhat furious at the people who’d attacked him (and by ‘somewhat’ he meant barely keeping it together). The prevailing feeling however was something he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt before.

He knew his eyebrows were slanting in confusion as he tried to unpick the feeling rising in his chest. _Positive or negative? Positive. Feels like I want to smile._ He tried cross-examining it with previous feelings. It wasn’t happiness, or that content feeling that swelled in his chest on lazy days with Neil, or the grounded feeling he got from having all of his Monsters in the same room. It was very similar to the feeling he got when Nicky announced he wasn’t inviting his parents to his wedding, or when he sees a new tag added to Aaron and Kevin’s keychains that mark another year sober for both of them (and wasn’t that the day, when the date marking a year since Riko’s ‘suicide’ had resulted in Kevin being taken to the hospital with alcohol poisoning and Andrew had begrudgingly agreed to allow Aaron to help Kevin the ‘sane way’ first, knowing first-hand what Andrew’s methods of curing an addiction looked like, provided that Aaron kept up with Kevin. He’d never expected it to work, but here they were), pride in the accomplishments of his group, but it wasn’t exactly the same.

He thought back to the way he’d almost given in, how thoughts of the people relying on him hadn’t been enough until he’d decided he wanted to live for himself. And then he realised. That feeling in his stomach? It was pride; pride in _himself_.

Andrew flickers his eyes open to catch Neil’s, who’s probably just stared at him for three days straight knowing Andrew wouldn’t be awake enough to chastise him. Neil’s on the phone, the words washing over Andrew confusingly until he realises Neil’s speaking Japanese. That gets a reaction, and Andrew’s eyebrows quirk up in question as Neil ends the call.

“There’s a rival crime family to the Moriyamas, who are the reason they left Japan in the first place. They found out about the different ‘assets’ the Moriyamas had, and figured they could take you out without drawing revenge from them, because you’re not actually owned by them. Planned on doing the same to Thea and Jeremy, but they got to you first. Should have done you last.” Neil muses. “Poor planning. Didn’t they know a Fox would be the hardest to take out?”

“Did you start another crime war?” Andrew says, tiredly, already half-heartedly thinking through maybe going to stay with Nicky for a bit and lay low, and Neil shrugs.

“I don’t think so. You killed two of their best assassins, so I don’t think they’ll be trying that one again. For their failure, Ichirou has taken a percentage off each of what we have to pay back out of our earnings.”

“All three of you?”

“Yep. Only 79% Moriyama property now.”

“Be thankful their percentages don’t mean the same as mine.” Andrew muttered darkly, not really that bothered. “Did you kill anyone?” Neil seems unbothered by the question.

“They stabbed you in the kidney. I insisted Ichirou send me a new one or I’d find one myself. I didn’t ask where he got it from.” Andrew absorbs this silently, not doubting Neil for a second and thankful for his restraint, if only because he didn’t want to have to move house due to blood in the tiles again.

“I’m assuming you thanked Sam for calling the ambulance by buying him something gaudy.” Neil smiles, and Andrew’s glad there’s not a hint of Nathaniel in it.

“I think we may win best wedding present.” Neil allows. He pauses, and then gives a brief summary of the last few days. “There wasn’t any complications with the surgeries but you’re going to be out for a while, as I’m sure you realise. Allison insisted I come straight back home when I got Sam’s message, but there was no more flights that night so I got the first one back in the morning. Sam stayed with you till then. Aaron is driving down to see you, couldn’t afford flights so soon after Germany, and Nicky has insisted on hourly updates. I haven’t managed to get a hold of Renee yet. Wymack and Abby asked if they could visit and I said to wait until I could ask you. You should be out of the hospital to make it to Sam and Eunoia’s wedding but you’ll be wheelchair bound. And there’s going to be a trial for the deaths.” Neil stiffens slightly.

“A trial?” Andrew presses, eyes narrowing.

“Yeah. The police arrived before it could be disposed of quietly. It’ll be a farce but it was too public to not have anything. The jury’s already bought. I told Sam the majority of the truth.” Neil shivers and looks down at his scarred hands. “I hate trials.”

Andrew thinks about the last one they went to and has to agree.

 

_Lola's trial was everything different and everything similar to Aaron's trial a few months earlier. Everything different because even if Lola got off scot-free (very unlikely), none of them would be in danger because the Moriyamas would probably take her out before she could leave the court room. Possibly the only reason she'd made it to the court trial is that the Feds had her in custody, and hadn't even told Neil until after Christmas that he was being called to testify. He'd thought she was dead, which was a surprise he did not relish. Andrew had tried to stick with him through the nightmares and the endless 'going for a run's, remembering in painful clarity how much Neil had tried to help Andrew when it was Aaron's trial. It had taken Andrew the better half of a week to work out Neil was avoiding him, and another day to catch Neil into a confrontation._

_Neil, after being pressed, had admitted that he couldn't deal with the fact that Andrew was armed, especially with knives, but that he didn't want to ask Andrew to not carry the knives when they were such a security for the goalkeeper. Andrew didn't feel comfortable going outside without the knives in his armbands, especially now that everyone who had forgotten about the gossip of Andrew's rape and Drake's subsequent murder in the weeks Andrew was unavailable at Easthaven, had remembered thanks to the trial. It wasn't so bad most of the time, but in his classes people were either infuriatingly kind and treating him like glass or filled with too friendly grins and insulting remarks said in low voices to laughing friends. In their dorm and on the roof though, Andrew decided to leave his knives behind, trusting his fists and Neil at his back instead._

_When Neil had told him the nightmares had subsided in frequency and that he wouldn't have as much of a problem with Andrew's knives anymore, Andrew had found he didn't particularly long for them when in the relative safety of Fox Tower. Some days he still put them on everywhere, and some days he felt comfortable enough to leave them in his drawers._

_Those days were Neil's favourites._

_They were Andrew's favourites too._

_Everything similar because the entire family (Neil's being bigger than Aaron's, including the upperclassmen) had insisted on coming to support Neil (the newbie Foxes were too thankful for a day off practice to ask where everyone else was going), and none of them had slept the night before, preventing Neil's terrified vigil from being lonely. To Andrew's slight surprise, Bee was also with them. Even more surprising was that Bee didn't make a beeline (ha beeline) for Andrew. Instead she went and spoke to Neil in quiet whispers, and when they were done Neil gave her a grim smile and walked slowly over to Andrew, not scampering away from the therapist like usual._

_Andrew arched an eyebrow, asking him a silent 'when did that happen?' "You know that I went to see her before Aaron's trial." Neil shrugged uncomfortably. "When I got the news about Lola and I couldn't talk to you... It was try that or make a bad decision so I picked the option that probably wouldn't result in you hunting me down. It's not a regular thing but," Neil shrugged again, "It helped a little I think. Even if it was just detaining me so I didn't run that first day."_

_Andrew absorbed this as they took their seats, tuning out the opening of the court proceedings. The Foxes were seated in a tight protective circle round Neil's left side, Andrew being the only one sitting to his right. Aaron was the only exception, sitting closer to Abby, Wymack and Bee than Neil, but the fact that he'd shown up at all spoke volumes about how much his relationship with Neil (and Andrew) had improved since the twins broke their deal. Neil stiffened as a woman who was shorter than all of the girls on their team was led to the stand with four guards flanking her. Andrew took in her casual stance, impeccable appearance and wild, darting eyes with caution, trying to understand what it was about her that haunted Neil’s nightmares. When her gaze caught on Neil a grin split her face, a smile that was too wide and toothy to be anything but sinister and she mouthed the word ‘Junior’ before blowing him a kiss._

_Andrew looked at Neil who stared Lola down with a straight back and a carefully blank expression. It wasn’t a look Andrew ever wanted to see again. The jury filed in and both sides gave their opening statements. Andrew wasn’t listening, instead watching the uncomfortably straight line of Neil’s back and wishing he could ask silently whether it was ok to touch Neil right now. Neil refused to look at him though, still watching Lola in frozen apathy. Andrew tried to see what Neil saw; trying to find weaknesses in her flawless exterior that would speak of the probably subpar treatment she had received from the hands of the Feds._

_It was clear from the defendants opening that they weren’t trying to paint Lola as completely innocent, instead taking the angle that she was Nathan’s mistress but woefully unaware of his bloodier actions. He heard Allison scoff at that and Dan shush her quietly._

_They called Neil up after what felt like hours. Matt reached out and grabbed his hand, giving it a quick squeeze in support. Andrew bristled at the unconsented touch but Neil didn’t flinch away, his face softening for half a second before he walked stiffly to the stand. He was sworn in and waited for questions from the prosecution._

_“For the record, you are Neil Josten, formerly Nathaniel Wesninski, son of Nathan Wesninski?” Andrew could see Neil’s hands shaking where they were by his sides but he responded steadily._

_“Yes.” To Neil’s surprise, the prosecution didn’t immediately continue with questions, instead gesturing for a screen to be brought into the room. The prosecutor faced the judge, vindictive mirth easily read in his eyes._

_“Because of Nathan’s Wesninski’s high profile crime ring, many FBI agents were sent undercover into his house. Some managed to get video footage of crimes committed in Nathan’s home back to the FBI before they were discovered as agents. While the footage never featured Nathan, we think that a few clips did feature the defendant. With your permission your honour, we’d like to ask Mr Josten to identify her in these videos.”_

_Neil’s shakes were getting worse, his eyes widening in horror. The judge agreed before Neil could protest, and Andrew realised how much of a farce of a trial this whole thing really was. Neil turned to look back at the Foxes and there were several gasps of surprise at how awful Neil looked, terrified and sweating. Andrew didn’t understand what the problem was until the first video began playing and a shirtless auburn-haired child was shoved harshly enough into the dark room shown on the screen that he stumbled. He caught his balance before he could fall and spun to face where he had been shoved in from, backing up to let the person who’d shoved him into the room._

_“Oh my God.” Matt said, in horror, as they all gazed at what must have been a five or six year old Neil, Nathaniel, a Nathaniel that had a fresh oozing burn taking up the majority of the right side of his chest, a burn Andrew knew would later scar into the shape of a hot iron. There were a few other scars that Andrew could see, but nothing compared to the multitude that littered his torso now._

_A woman walked into the frame, mostly blocking the view of Nathaniel. “Time for your lessons Junior!” She said, excitedly, in the kind of sing-song voice that spoke of madness. The woman was undeniably Lola even from behind; she hadn’t even changed her hair colour. “Do you remember what we did last time?”_

_“You have the knife. Whoever ends with the knife wins.” Nathaniel recited obediently, his voice wobbling, no hint of the smart mouth that was basically half of Neil’s personality. Andrew finds himself startling at the thick Baltimore accent coating Nathaniel's words; he realises logically that Neil would've wanted to, and would've had to, get rid of that accent as soon as possible on the run, but it hadn't ever occurred to him that Neil's original voice would be so different._

_Lola clicked her tongue and another person entered the frame, a man this time, taller than Lola and bulkier too, but with the same shade of hair colour. Lola in real life watched the man with the most emotion she’d shown so far, her eyes furious and broken._

_On the video, Lola started twirling a knife in her hand as she walked around Nathaniel, exposing him to the camera’s view again. Nathaniel’s eyes flickered rapidly between the two people. “Since you did so well last time, this time you’re going to take on me and my brother. Aren’t you proud of yourself?” Nathaniel’s expression fell, not that it had been particularly happy to start with, and he bit his lip, worrying it through his teeth. Lola lunged forward and scratched a shallow line down Nathaniel’s arm that he wasn’t quick enough to miss. He flinched and his eyes got a little shinier but otherwise didn’t react, already too used to a lifestyle of pain. “I asked you a question Junior.”_

_The prosecution paused the video before Nathaniel could reply._

_“Mr Josten, would you explain to the jury what happened in that clip?”_

_“I think it speaks for itself.” Neil said, dully, his hands clenched to fists by his sides. Andrew had never heard him sound so lifeless._

_“Answer the question Mr Josten.” The phrasing was all too similar to Lola’s in the clip, and Neil flinched for the first time that day. On the other stand, Lola’s grin widened, if possible._

_“Lola, on my father’s orders, used to give me lessons in handling knives. No-one else was allowed to use a cleaver, that was my father’s signature weapon, but every Wesninski had to be well-versed in how to handle a knife.” Neil’s voice comes as if from far away. “In that clip Lola and her brother Romero were using learning self-defence as an excuse to terrorise me.”_

_“How old were you in that clip?”_

_“Five.” Neil replied, shortly. There’s even a few gasps from the jury at that. Nicky looked like he was struggling not to burst into tears._

_“Did Lola give you the injury we can see in the footage?”_

_“No.” The prosecution was clearly hoping she had by the disappointed look on their face, but decided to turn to the next clip._

_In the next three clips, Neil, or Nathaniel, didn’t make it into the frame at all, thankfully. They still had to sit through clips of Lola, and occasionally Romero, torturing other people, though none as young as Nathaniel had been. Neil seemed to recover somewhat from the first clip by the end, his posture relaxing slightly as he quietly identified Lola in each clip, even as he shied away from looking directly at the torture. Andrew could tell they hadn’t been allowed, or perhaps the Feds didn’t want to show the worst of the clips, by the way Neil relaxed every time they paused it just as the torture seemed to be taking a new route._

_Abby looked like she was about to throw up, and Aaron was just as green. Kevin had watched every clip with a haunted, distant look on his face. Matt had turned his face mostly into Dan’s shoulder, slumping down, while Renee and Allison had matching dark, furious expressions on their faces as they clutched hands. Wymack looked tired and Bee like she was struggling (but succeeding) to stay calm. Andrew clenched and unclenched his hands, realising that the Foxes had all subconsciously crowded closer to each other and him during the clips._

_“We have a final clip to show, Your Honour. We believe this is from the night of Neil Josten’s kidnapping. I am told the agent paid the ultimate price to manage to secure this camera in the basement where Neil was held.”_

_Andrew hears the words wash over him and then he’s standing, meaning to run to Neil, to crash straight in to the screen before this clip can be shown, to stand in front of Neil and tear down anyone who comes near them. Renee’s tripped him painfully down onto the bench before he can take a single step, and Wymack has one arm in an iron grip while Matt takes the other._

_“Don’t.” Aaron says, an emotion Andrew can’t place in his voice but Andrew doesn’t care, he doesn’t care, he’s fighting, he’s fighting,_ Neil I’m trying- 

_They press play and Neil’s lying unconscious on a stone floor, the camera clearly hidden in the ceiling. One hand is cuffed, the other is covering his face, the fresh wounds oozing and leaking drying blood in a way that makes it barely recognisable as a hand. The pattern of knife lines and circular burns continue all the way up his arm. Purple bruises stretch across his throat, and the part of his face that’s visible is streaked with blood from the deep knife wounds into his cheek. ‘You’re a mess’ didn’t cover even half of it._

_Lola stalked onto the screen, cleaning her knife and humming. She bent down by Neil’s body and traced the knife gently over the curve of his eyebrow like a lover’s caress. Her other hand reached down and grabbed his crotch, turning to flick a smile over her shoulder._

_“Not quite like his father, eh?”_

_“Lola don’t be crass.” A voice came from behind and Andrew loses it. His elbow slams into Matt's stomach hard enough that the backliner's breath whooshes out of him, dropping Andrew's arm instinctively to cradle his stomach. Andrew doesn't miss a beat, his now free arm careening towards Wymack's face and then Aaron is in the way. Andrew manages to stop his fist just before it touches Aaron's body, and the surprised look in his twin's eyes that his intervention actually worked is all the distraction Renee needs to swing her legs around his middle and twist to sit in his lap, her feet hooked under the bench so that he can't just throw her off. It's Dan and Allison hanging onto his arm now and between the two of their well-toned arms they're easily holding him back. Andrew watches, still fighting, as Neil's hands go white-knuckled on the stand post and his legs almost fail him. He can hear the panicked breaths Neil's huffing into the microphone and he doesn't understand why they're doing this, why they need more evidence._

_Andrew knows Neil doesn't want anyone to see, knows that this is something Neil was trying to put behind him and doesn't want rehashed on a screen but like a horror movie he can't tear his eyes away._

_Lola moves away from Neil and almost out of shot as Neil begins to stir, moving to turn a chair around and straddle it, keeping her eyes on Neil as she casually lays a hand on the back of the chair, the other hanging loose by her side, close to the gun she's carrying. Neil groans in pain as he sits up, blinking the disorientation out of his too-blue eyes._

_"Going somewhere?" Lola teases. Andrew didn't recognise any of Neil's personality in five-year-old Nathaniel Wesninski, but years on and it was clear Neil had been built from Nathaniel, not entirely from scratch. Neil holds his hands up to Lola._

_"These are going to get infected if I don't clean them soon." His voice is hoarse and croaky from screaming, but there's something so Neil about talking back to a member of the mob. What's not like Neil is the utter lack of warmth in his eyes. Andrew finds himself studying this Neil like he used to study the one physically in front of him._

_"I wouldn't worry about that if I were you."_

_"You're not me." Neil gets to his feet and makes his way to something off screen. There's the sound of running water and then a pained hiss. The occasional hiss continues until Neil edges back onto the screen again, his wet, newly washed arms held out in front of him to dry. They're trembling in pain and Andrew feels his stomach flip over in nausea. "How much longer is this going to take?"_

_"The waiting, or the killing?" Wymack's hands tighten reflexively on his arm. "The latter might take a while. It's not normally his style but you've cost us so much trouble and money I think he'll make an exception." Andrew realises what's caused the lack of warmth in Neil's eyes._

_He's given up on living._

_"You could have just let us go."_

_"Don't say such childish things." Apparently accepting this along with his fate, Nathaniel sat down. The tape is fast-forwarded, neither Nathaniel not Lola moving much in the time they skip through, and it's restarted when there's the sound of a door opening and a completely calm expression washes over Nathaniel's face until he looks nothing like Neil or Nathaniel, a person so alien Andrew shivers._

_The Foxes take in a collective breath when Nathan Wesninski walks into the room. He looks like a more muscular, taller Neil, with the same shade of hair and the exact same colour of eyes, but his are flat and merciless, cold and cruel, and utterly sure of himself and his power. Andrew was expecting him to look all perfectly tailored like Neil's uncle or the Moriyamas, but instead he's barefoot, with a dark shirt and dark jeans. To a person not well-versed in cruelty, Nathan Wesninski probably looks like any other middle-aged man, if a more attractive than average one._

_The man behind him can't say the same. He was like something out of a steroid commercial, with arms that could have doubled as tree-trunks and an arrogant swagger to his walk._

_"On your feet. You know better than to sit in my presence." Nathaniel is standing obediently before Nathan even finishes, looking for all the world like a controllable puppet. Lola laughs at whatever she can see in Nathaniel's face and goes to stand behind him, barely staying in the frame._

_"Hello, Junior." Matt chokes from his position on the floor, still recovering from Andrew's punch. Andrew's not sure if he's laughing or crying._

_Nathan puts a hand on Nathaniel's shoulder on screen and then slams all the force he can put into his fist into the side of Nathaniel's face that's covered in burns. Nathaniel crumples as Nathan catches him by the throat and holds him up easily as Nathaniel tries to get to his feet again._

_"I said hello." Nathan says. Nathaniel opens his mouth and closes it again twice before he manages to reply. Andrew's hoping for some smart-ass comment, disappointed by Nathaniel's quiet response._

_"Hello."_

_"Look at me when I'm talking to you." Nathaniel drags his chin up to look Nathan in the face, his hands twitching at his sides in an effort to stay put. "My son. My greatest disappointment in life." Andrew remembers a conversation with Luther where he'd said the same words, and he knows Nicky remembers it too by the way the tears spill down his cheeks. "Where is my second greatest?"_

_"Mom is dead. You killed her. Don't you remember?" His voice is hollow and empty, just like the feeling in Andrew's stomach._

_"I would remember. I would have savoured the memory while counting down days to find you again."_

_"You broke her. She only made it as far as the California border." Nathan looks at Lola over Nathaniel's shoulder. Lola steps forward slightly, eager to answer his unspoken question._

_"I believe him." The tape is skipped again, through a section that looks like it's been edited out. The judge holds their hand out before the prosecution can press play again._

_"What was that blank part?"_

_"A piece that referenced an ongoing investigation." The prosecution said smoothly, and Andrew resolved to ask Neil about it later, if Neil ever wants to see any of them again after this._

_"Do you know what I'm going to do with you?" Nathan asks rhetorically of Nathaniel, his hands now cupping Nathaniel's face so harshly that his wounds are reopening. "I'm not entirely sure just yet, myself. I've had a couple of years to think it over but now that the time has come I'm indecisive. I might skin you alive. I might take you apart an inch at a time and cauterize the wounds." At this Andrew hears either Aaron or Abby lose their fragile grip on their lunch into a bucket, but can't see them past Wymack's body. "I think no matter what I choose we are going to start by slicing the tendons in your legs. You're not going to run away this time Nathaniel. I'm not going to let you."_

_"Fuck you." Nathaniel replies, his voice sharper and more coherent in his horror. Nathan pushed Nathaniel away in order to be given a choice of weapon. Nathaniel, looking more like a rabbit than he had at Milport, tries to run for the exit, but Lola stops him by jumping on his back and winding her arms around him._

_Nathan had picked the cleaver and hoisted Nathaniel up, unaffected by the fists Nathaniel was desperately throwing at him. The muscular body guard threw Nathaniel into the nearest wall without ceremony. He landed on his wounded hands. Even though Andrew had the evidence right in front of him that Nathaniel survived this, it didn't stop the sharp swoop of fear as Nathaniel only barely avoided the first swing of his father's cleaver._

_In the next moment Nathaniel is running at Lola, the best of the worst of decisions, and the two of them engaged in some type of fight, with Nathaniel ducking out of the way and using his speed to his advantage, but is no match for Lola even if he wasn't so heavily injured. He manages to get in a lucky punch to her throat that momentarily boosts the Foxes' spirits until she cuts a shallow line down his chest. He sprints to the exit and Renee's hand grabs Andrew's, turning his fingers purple as Nathan comes up behind Nathaniel where Lola is pulling him back by his hair._

_"Move." Nathaniel dives to the side, crawling backwards on his hands as his father stomps towards him, all life leaving his expression. Nathan kicks him in the ribs, punches him in the face and then sits on him, cleaver to his throat. Andrew hadn't realised how close Neil had been to dying. He waited for Stuart to come, guns blazing, into the room, but nothing happened._

_Nathan's got an axe and a cleaver now, and he's tracing lines into Nathaniel's face. "Maybe we'll do both." The casual air of his voice makes even Andrew's stomach turn. "Skin you an inch or two at a time and carve the flesh out from underneath." Abby and/or Aaron retches again. "If we do it right, you might last all night. Patrick, have them toss us down the blowtorch. It should still be in the drawer by the oven."_

_"No." Nathaniel says, shaking his head, and Andrew begins to feel his own trauma rise up, a blackhole of memories he refuses to get sucked into. Not when Neil needs him._

_"Stop it." Neil wheezes, on the stand, and Andrew sees out of the corner of his eye Bee talking to the security guard that's in the box with them, gesturing furiously, her eyes sparking with anger._

_"Lola." Nathan says and Lola comes back onto the screen, glaring at Nathaniel and clutching her throat. "Would you like the pleasure of crippling him?"_

_"Stop it." Neil says again, a little louder into the microphone but everyone's been sucked into this horror movie now._

_"No." Nathaniel protests, struggling until Nathan lays his cleaver on the bridge of Nathaniel's nose._

_"If you do not sit the fuck still I will gouge your eyes out." Nathaniel freezes as Kevin joins Bee in trying to convince them to turn the screen off or at least let Neil down from the stand._

_"Don't-" Neil begins but he's cut off by his own voice, a lifetime ago._

_"Please." Nathaniel whispers, and Andrew thinks he feels a part of himself he didn't know he had break. "Please don't."_

_"Can I?" Lola asks excitedly but Andrew's so past caring about this trial. He never should have let Neil come here, never should have allowed himself to be weak enough that he prevented punching the brother who'd never held up his promises._

_"We'll slit your ankles, then your knees and if you try to crawl away I will take your arms from you too. Do you understand?"_

_"Where the fuck is his uncle?" Allison says, looking green herself._

_The bodyguard came back with the blowtorch. "Please," Nathaniel started begging and Andrew felt bile at the back of his throat, "Just let me go, just let me go, I'm not-"_

_"Lola." Nathan said, and the film ended just as the door to the basement opened._

_Everyone in the room turns to face Neil, a shocked silence ringing over everybody in the room. Neil himself breaks it by vomiting onto the floor by the stand._

_Renee gets off him before Andrew decides to hell with it and risk breaking her feet and Wymack, Dan and Allison release him. Aaron says his name but for once Andrew doesn't listen to his brother, instead throwing open the door to the witness box and finally making it over to Neil. Various members of proceedings are shouting at them and each other but Andrew only has eyes for Neil._

_"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Neil whimpers when Andrew gets within hearing distance and Andrew feels like vomiting himself. "I didn't want you to see." Neil adds, and Andrew doesn't believe in regret but he does believe in guilt and right now he feels all of it._

_"Touching the back of your neck, yes or no?" Andrew asks eventually, dread sinking his stomach when Neil shakes his head._

_"I need to- I need to go." With that he's off, dashing towards the fire exit before even security can stop him, running into the unknown._

_Kevin's more scared than relieved when his phone rings with Neil's caller ID. If Neil was on the other end of this phone call, he would've rung Andrew. Which means that's not Neil on the other end of the line. He takes a quick glance around, noting that he's out of earshot but not eyeline of the other Foxes, milling around the courthouse. Andrew is the closest, talking to Bee on a bench, looking almost as rattled as he had in Baltimore. He'll notice if Kevin disappears._

_Probably._

_"Hello?" Kevin asks, finally bringing the phone to his ear._

_"It's me." Neil says, a second too long of a pause between responses._

_"Why are you calling me?" Kevin frowns. Neil ignores this._

_"Is Andrew ok?" Kevin glances at the goalkeeper, his confusion deepening._

_"Yeah he's fine. Do you want me to put him on the phone?"_

_"No!" Neil says, almost a shout. "No." He repeats, more calmly. "What about everyone else?"_

_"They're all fine. It wasn't that traumatising." Kevin scoffs._

_"Just because you and I watched a man get hacked to pieces when we were children doesn't mean everyone else would have an easy time." Neil points out. Kevin rolls his eyes, forgetting Neil can't see him._

_"Where are you?" Kevin says, after a moment of silence. "We'll come and get you."_

_"Tell the others I'm ok, but I'm not coming home tonight. I'll make my own way back tomorrow." Kevin knows Andrew wouldn't have accepted this response, and wonders if that's why Neil called Kevin._

_"Be careful. They are probably watching you." He's about to say that he won't put up with Neil missing practice again, but stops himself at the last second. He makes a mental note to tell Thea later; it's what she'd call 'progress'._

_"Oh, I know." Neil laughs, hollowly, and dread sparks in Kevin's chest._

_"Neil? What happened?" At the sound of his name, Andrew's head snaps up, narrowing his eyes as he takes in the phone Kevin's holding to his ear. He gets up and starts making his way over._

_"They just wanted to chat, ask me about whether the Feds had managed to recover the things they'd edited out."_

_"You better not be beat to shit Neil I am not getting punched by Matt again." Neil didn't respond for a moment._

_"Nothing worse than a black eye." He says, and Kevin has to cover his face at the amount of stupidity that is Neil Josten._

_"Are you talking to Neil?" Andrew demands when he's within speaking range and Neil inhales sharply on the phone. Kevin goes to hand the phone to him only discover Neil's hung up. Andrew looks at the conversation log blankly and then walks back to Bee without a word._

_Andrew had assumed (wrongly, as he could now see) that Neil was being weird with all of the Foxes, not just him._

_Kevin had agreed he sounded off on the phone, and had also revealed, to everyone, that Neil might be coming back a little bruised. Andrew had not liked that, at all, and wanted to set off to find him immediately. Unfortunately, if he couldn't convince Coach (which he couldn't without his knives, and he'd fucking left them behind for Neil's sake hadn't he) to drive them round in the minibus, he had no other way of looking for Neil without having to resort to public transport. By the time they got back to Palmetto and he could get to his car, he'd worked out that he didn't have a chance in Hell of finding Neil if he didn't want to be found. He'd have to trust instead that Neil would do what he said he would and make it back on his own._

_Andrew wasn't expecting him to turn up until the evening, and thought that going to class was less likely to end in bloodshed than hanging around with a concerned Nicky, or an apologetic Renee who he hadn't forgiven for restraining him the day before yet. Presumably Neil would text him when he got home, or come straight to the rooftop, so that was where Andrew decided to head when he got out of his last class and Neil still hadn't contacted him._

_As he went past the dorm rooms to the roof however, he heard Neil's exasperated tone through the wall of the girl's room. He nudged the door open, basking in the sudden silence his presence caused and waiting for an explanation._

_Allison had Neil's chin held in her left hand as she used her right to apply foundation under Neil's eye to cover the purpling bruise there. Neil also had a few light scrapes on his hands, Andrew guessed from falling from the punch. Andrew did not appreciate how Neil's eyes, warm and unguarded, changed when he caught sight of Andrew, into something Andrew didn't recognise._

_Dan, sat next to Neil on their sofa, looked between the two of them and then whapped Neil lightly on the shoulder. "You didn't tell Andrew you were back? Neil it's been hours!"_

_Neil cleared his throat and Allison let go of his face, pouting. "The roof?" Neil asked of Andrew, not meeting his eyes._

_Andrew turned swiftly on his heel, mind racing through what he must have done that was particularly awful compared to the other Foxes. He ran quick-play through the final video they'd seen, feeling sick as he came to a terrible conclusion. Neil hadn't been conscious when Lola had touched him without his consent, and watching that video was probably the first time he'd learnt of that assault. Maybe he couldn't be near Andrew right now, someone else who'd touched him like that but- No. Never like that. Andrew had only ever touched Neil with his permission._

_He came back out of his head as he sat down on the roof top, debating lighting a cigarette and then deciding that Neil's current mental state was not clear enough to risk getting out a lighter. He turned to the redhead instead._

_"I thought you said you'd stopped running." Andrew prompted, causing Neil to give him a startled look._

_"When did I run?"_

_"Avoiding, hiding, whatever you want to call it." Neil frowned, then blinked, his expression clearing and a slightly startled exhale of air Andrew thought might have been a laugh escaping from his mouth._

_"I thought_ you _were avoiding_ me _." Andrew glared at him._

_"Why would I be avoiding you?" Neil fidgeted with his hands, linking his fingers together in different ways._

_"I said-" Neil cut himself off as his voice broke. Andrew saw his hands start to shake, his fingers turning white with how tight he was gripping them. Andrew tapped his index finger against one of Neil's knuckles, relieved beyond words when Neil's hands immediately fell open at his silent question. He took Neil's hands in his own and then pressed them against the roof, his hands gently holding them down, grounding Neil to being here, on this roof, with him. Neil looked at their hands and then into Andrew's face as his breathing slowed back into calm. "In the clip I said that word that you don't like. And I said it in a bad context. I didn't want you to ever have to see that." Neil said quietly, not breaking eye-contact._

_Andrew took a second to absorb Neil's words and then rolled his eyes so hard it was a wonder he couldn't see into his skull. "You stupid martyr. The whole team saw you at your worst and you freaked out about that? You literally vomited off the stand Neil." Neil's eyes flashed._

_"That wasn't my worst." Then he shivers and pushes himself out of that memory firmly enough that Andrew knows not to ask, not yet. "I'm not ok. I never wanted anyone to see that, never wanted to relive it that vividly. I can't believe I was conned into participating in that farce of a trial. I- Lola did a similar thing when I was trapped in the boot with her," Neil says, jerking his chin at his crotch, his hands still immobile, "but I didn't know she'd done it again. I hate that I've been fighting off a panic attack for twenty-four hours now and I'm exhausted." Neil continues, more unexpected honesty that Andrew gathers close to his chest._

_"They don't look at you any differently." Andrew assures, and knows that Neil will understand he's talking about himself too. "Have you talked to Bee yet?"_

_"Tomorrow. Right now... I just need this." Neil's voice is so quiet it's almost a whisper, and Andrew is almost overcome with the urge to tug Neil closer to him. Resisting it, because they are on a roof and Andrew is finally at a point in his life where he'd be more annoyed than relieved if he fell off, he moves one of his hands off Neil's to tap at the mostly-concealed bruise under his eye._

_The explain goes unsaid._

_"A representative of Ichirou came to make sure that none of the stuff relating to the Moriyamas had managed to be taken by the FBI. And also to explain they'd finally gone through my father's will."_

_"Did daddy dearest leave you anything?" Neil tapped the fingers of his free hand against the stone._

_"Everything." Andrew blinked._

_"What?"_

_"Yeah. I'm loaded on blood money. Didn't need a scholarship after all." Neil joked, weakly. Andrew decided to table this matter for now and come back to it when Neil was feeling more like his usual Math-Is-Amazing self and could work out just how 'loaded' he was._

_"Why did he punch you?" Neil shrugged. "I take that to mean you goaded a member of the mob again." A smile tugged at Neil's lips against his permission and Andrew felt like knocking his head against a wall. "Yes or no?"_

_"Yes." Neil replied immediately. Andrew rested his hand against Neil's face, stroking his thumb under his eye, allowing them both some careful softness, before leaning in to capture his lips with the usual ferocity. Neil clung to Andrew's sleeve until Andrew placed both of his hands on Andrew's shoulders. Neil flexed his hands lightly and Andrew buried the contented feeling that rose in his chest by shuffling closer, risking the swoop of vertigo fear if it meant he could feel the reassuring heat of Neil's body even through these layers of clothes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think!


	16. Sam and the small world (or Sam gets married; part one)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG  
> Basically, I took 4 A-Levels (don't do it kids) and have had literally no free time or motivation for anything other than studying or moping around, feeling guilty for not studying.  
> I should really still be studying now but I only have 4 exams left (out of 12 total so yay!) so this was a treat for myself, and hopefully for you.

Sam and Eunoia had better be sodding grateful that- Woah. When had he started caring about whether the two pests were grateful or not? With everything that had been revealed about Eunoia’s parentage, it would’ve been much easier for Andrew and Neil to cut the two of them off, would’ve made more sense too. Add that on to the mess with Rosa deRosales (who Andrew is not admitting he’s actually glad he met, nor will he admit he’s planning on talking to her at the wedding) and it seems ridiculous that Andrew and Neil are bothering with them. He thinks it might have something to do with the kindness of Sam, the way he saved Neil’s life and expected nothing in return, the resilience of Eunoia and how she’s made her little corner of the world into a safe space, when no-one would’ve thought of her differently if she hadn’t. There have been very few people in Andrew and Neil’s lives who were kind without reason; since the Foxes that number has thankfully upped, but you could argue that the Foxes needed each other to win, and Wymack had taken them in to play for him; Sam and Eunoia gained no further advantage from being friendly with them, other than regular customers.

Still, they had better be grateful that Andrew was suffering through the indignity of being wheeled around by Neil into the entrance hall, an hour before the wedding ceremony was supposed to commence. The idea was that hopefully any paparazzi who’d followed them would get bored by the time the ceremony actually let out if they were inside the whole time.

Eunoia and Sam were stood talking to a tall Hispanic girl, Eunoia gesturing all over the place excitedly. Just watching her made Andrew feeling like his stitches were pulling.

“Noia it’s going to be fine. I can handle the shop for two weeks for your honeymoon, alright?”

“I know I trust you it’s just…” Eunoia trailed off, and then caught sight of Andrew and Neil. Neil pushed Andrew a bit closer as the other three closed the distance. Andrew took the chance to examine Sam and Eunoia, who honestly looked like their bodies were about to burst with the happiness they were containing. The adoration in Sam’s eyes as he looked at Eunoia made Andrew actually feel a little sick, while the fierce pride Eunoia seemed to glow with when she looked back made him feel like an intruder on something private. Admittedly, Andrew hadn’t been sure what to expect, what with Sam already saying that they weren’t using rings and the fact that Eunoia and Sam were here together, not waiting to see each other for the first time at the aisle, though Andrew knew they hadn’t seen each other for two weeks in-between, so Andrew’s image of a white traditional wedding was already offset, but he was still surprised with how different it was. Sam was wearing a dark red shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and black dress pants, but no shoes. Eunoia’s dress had a train, but the end of the dress at the front finished at her ankle, so you could see she also barefoot. Her dress began the same dark red as Sam’s shirt, but slowly faded to white up to the top of the strapless piece. It was a beautiful dress, but it was also a powerful one; this dress could be worn by Queens and conquerors as well as the ‘blushing bride’. Red berries were weaved through Eunoia’s hair, forming a wreath of sorts while the majority of her hair was left flowing down her back.

“Andrew, how are you feeling?” Eunoia asked, thankfully not doing that thing where people bend down to talk to him; he had enough of that when he was stood up.

“What was the point of being apart for two weeks if you weren’t going to do a big surprise reveal at the wedding?” Andrew counters, not bothering to answer her question. The fact he was alive spoke for itself.

“Why does our surprise reveal to each other have to include everyone else? This is our wedding day, the day that means from now on we’re going to be legally bound to each other forever, why would I want to spend a second of our big day away from her? That makes no sense.” Sam answers. Andrew raises an eyebrow, conceding the point, even if he still didn’t see the point of weddings. He almost smirks remembering the last time Neil and he had a sit down talk about the official ‘status’ of their relationship, after Neil’s near hyperventilation at that he can’t imagine what would happen if Andrew suddenly announced he wanted to get married.

 

_Andrew hadn't seen Neil this agitated since he'd found about Andrew's fear of heights, and therefore Andrew's exploitation of them in order to be able to feel anything. That had only lasted a split second, whereas Andrew had the feeling as he took in Neil pacing across their dorm room, that Neil had been doing it for some time._

_Neil spun round to face Andrew as soon as he heard the door close, opened his mouth and then closed it again immediately, looking rather like a fish. "I thought you were on a date with Allison."_

_"They're not dates." Neil snapped back immediately, as he always did when Andrew referred to them as such, and then his eyes widened in horror. "They're not dates,_ right _?" Andrew raised an eyebrow. Neil sat down heavily on the sofa and ran a hand through his hair._

_The closer they got to Andrew's graduation, the more desperate their kisses had become, until they were almost bordering on the intensity of their first few kisses, before they'd admitted to themselves that this nothing meant a lot more to them than either had intended. It wasn't that Andrew was worried about Neil breaking up with him when he left university, at least not logically, but he still had a childhood of reasons not to trust in anything too good to be true, and if that wasn't a descriptor of Neil, Andrew didn't know what was._

_"We need to talk about some things." Neil said, to the floor, and Andrew felt his eyebrows raise even higher. They weren't the type to sit down and make time for difficult conversations; difficult conversations were the majority of their conversations. It just made them worthwhile. "Before you leave."_

_"I'm graduating not walking out on you. You sound like a 50's housewife." Neil snorted lightly, but Andrew knew his heart wasn't in it. Neil patted the seat next to him and Andrew sat down, feeling a ridiculous amount like he was being called in to see the principal._

_"Allison and I were talking today. And she made me think about something. It made me realise I don't know how much about our relationship after you leave has been me assuming things based on how much I trust you, and how much has been on how I feel about sex."_

_At that final word Andrew sharpens, then stills, eyes narrowing. "I thought I told you to stop giving a shit about what the others think about our relationship."_

_"This isn't that Andrew." Neil replies softly. Andrew's not used to any of his words sounding soft. Fear, the kind the opens like a whirlpool drowning out rational thought, begins to swirl in his stomach. "I need you to know I'm not bringing this up because I have any doubts about our relationship lasting long term or because I don't trust you long-distance or anything, that's stupid and that's what Allison suggested. So this isn't that."_

_The fear abates somewhat but Andrew's hands still feel clammy. "Spit it out Neil I swear to God-"_

_"Are we exclusive once you leave?" Neil blurts out, and Andrew's face goes the kind of shocked blank that's reminiscent of his brief stints sober between pills. "I mean that- Well. I know for me that sex is like just one thing and it's great with you and everything and I really enjoy it but I don't ever really crave it. Like when we're going to have to go ages between seeing each other I'm going to miss you but I'm indifferent about the sex part. I'll miss the intimacy of it but if you told me today that you were never going to touch me again I wouldn't care." Neil glances at Andrew to see if his uncoordinated rambling is making any sense and then backpedals quickly at whatever he sees in his expression. "I mean of course I'd_ care _because that would be a really backwards step and I'd be worried about what had caused it but I wouldn't care in terms of our relationship holding together."_

_"I don't see what your point is." Andrew admits, when Neil pauses to breathe, regarding Neil with a strange expression that Neil recognises from being told 'I'll still solve you'._

_"Oh right, yeah." Neil clears his throat. "I know sex isn't like that for you. And I'm not saying I think you'd suddenly want to start hooking up with every fit male you see in whichever state you end up in, but, well, according to everyone else I've spoken to about it they say sex becomes like 'an itch you need to scratch' after a while? I guess in the same way I want to go running and I feel restless until I've been able to go. Not a necessity but more than just a want right?" Neil nods at whatever he sees in Andrew's eyes, even though Andrew's sure he'd made his face as impassive as possible. "And I know that we're going to have to go months without seeing each other. So, if it was something you were considering, I'd like to talk about it. And if not you can just pretend this conversation never happened and I'll try and melt into the couch." Andrew cocks his head._

_"I don't think I've ever seen you embarrassed before." Neil buries his head in his hands._

_"_ Andrew _." Neil whines. Andrew watches in fascination as the heat on Neil's cheeks reaches his ears and paints them bright red._

_"And if I said yes, I was considering it?" Andrew asks, curious as to Neil's reaction and also taking pity on his embarrassment._

_"Then I'd tell you that I think I'd be ok with you having some relationship like your agreement with Roland but I'm not sure because I've never had a reason to be jealous before but that we could keep talking about it and you could decide if that was going to be ok for you."_

_"No, I'm not considering it." Andrew says finally, and Neil visibly deflates into the sofa._

_"I didn't mean to imply anything." Neil says, after a moment, and Andrew sighs and laces their hands together quietly, tugging Neil closer to him._

_"I know, and you're an idiot, but I'm glad you felt we could talk about this." Andrew says, the words only a little strangled from the admission that had taken many hours with Bee to become familiar with. Neil glances at him and, correctly reading the permission in his eyes, carefully lays his head on Andrew's shoulder and snuggles into him._

_"I can talk to you about anything. But let's not ever have that conversation again." Neil hums a little against Andrew's neck, prompting a shiver, and then sits bolt upright, looking concerned. "I mean if we ever need to have this conversation again we totally can-"_

_"Shut up Junkie." Andrew replies, almost fondly, and kisses him before the heat fully fades from his face, planning on taking the image of his flushed cheeks to a more pleasurable location._

 

Andrew is saved from replying by Neil addressing the woman they didn’t know, with hesitance and more than a little confusion. “Julia?” Neil asks, and the woman startles, blinking at him.

“How do you know my name?”

“Um, I went by _Matías Fuentes_ when I knew you.” And holy Hell why has Andrew not made Neil do his Spanish accent before now- if they weren’t in public and Andrew could stand without potentially endangering his life… Or actually, just if they weren’t in public because Andrew could picture some pretty good ideas for what he could do with Neil sat in his lap.

“ _Matias_?!” Julia exclaims, “What happened to you? One day you were in class with me, and the next we had no lead for the school play! We had to make do with _Lito_ after you left. Lito!” Neil winces sympathetically and Julia shakes her head in disbelief. “Look, I have to go finish getting the flowers and everything for Noia, but at the reception you and I are going to have a talk.” She insists, shooting a look at Neil that clearly says if he tries to get out of it, she will tear him a new one, a look he’s only used to seeing from Wymack and Dan. She squeezes Eunoia’s hand and then, to Andrew’s utmost shock, kisses Neil on the cheek before hurrying away.

“What just happened?” Sam asks, faintly.

“ _You_ were the lead in a school play?” Eunoia says, in disbelief.

“Who was that?” Andrew snapped before Julia had even fully left hearing range, though he didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy glaring at Neil’s bemused face, and where he was rubbing his hand against his cheek where Julia had kissed him. To his surprise and disgust, Neil flushed the slight pink he only ever did when Andrew sucked his-

Well.

“That would be one of five people I’ve ever kissed, and one of two that I ever initiated a kiss with.” Neil admitted, still with a stupid bemused smile.

Andrew wasn’t the jealous type, but he was definitely possessive. He couldn’t care less what Neil had felt in the past (well he could, actually he had a vested interest in what the hell had happened there that he planned to collect in their truth game as soon as possible) but he was going to be sure none of those feelings translated into the present.

“For a demi that’s practically getting around.” Sam jokes. “I mean I’ve only kissed two people total, though I think that might be more to do with how I look. Eunoia tells me you’re very attractive.”

“So are you, gorgeous.” Eunoia chimes in, thankfully with more of Dan’s teasing edge than Matt’s unattractive puppy-dog sweetness. Andrew’s dental work is blessed by the Gods, but Matt can make even _his_ teeth rot. “But Neil’s more striking attractive, while you’re more ‘stable human being you take home to meet the parents’ attractive.”

“Was that a pun?” Even Eunoia ignores Sam’s latest attempt at humour (or at least that’s how it seems to Andrew). “Anyway Neil, who are your five? Don’t tell me one of them is Aaron; his angles are all wrong.”

Neil goes vaguely green at the thought while Andrew’s jaw clenches. That was a mental image neither of them ever wanted.

“What do you mean his ‘angles’?” Eunoia asks, confused. “I thought they were identical twins.” Both Neil and Sam wince in reproach, and then share a grimace with amusement.

“They are but they’re just not…” Neil makes a slashing motion with his hands, clearly not knowing how to articulate it.

“They’re not comparable like that. It’s like…” Sam searches for an example. “I don’t know. Andrew’s sharp but Aaron’s pricklier. They have the same face but they use it very differently. Aaron’s someone you’d find physically attractive first, romantically or emotionally second. He’s looking to be that way too; it’s purposeful whether he means to or not.” Neil is gaping at Sam. Sam feels himself beginning to go red.

“Be nice to him, he’s not the best with words.” Eunoia says fondly.

“No he said exactly what I meant.” Neil argues. Sam grins shyly, and Andrew and Eunoia share an exasperated look (Andrew is also not sure whether to be offended or not that he’s not ‘physically attractive first’ whatever the Hell that means. Andrew puts effort into his appearance).

“You never answered my question.” Sam says eventually, and Neil’s hand starts tracing patterns over his shirt, patterns only Andrew knows are his scars.

“The first was this girl in France. We were about a month away from leaving town and I used to walk home in the same direction as her. Never tried to walk with her but the girl wouldn’t leave me alone. One day she ran up to me, out of breath, just outside the school gates, and held out her hand, asked me to hold something for her. I was so startled I just opened my hand and then she held my hand instead of giving me anything. I was looking at our hands wondering what the hell was going on and then she kissed me. Ran off again right after. My mother… We moved out of the country that night.” This story Andrew had heard in pieces before, but he hadn’t known they’d left early because of a kiss. “Then was a Luca in Switzerland. I think it was a dare? I’d kind of forgotten it had happened. Then Julia. Then Nicky and of course.” Neil gestured his head towards his not-boyfriend. The easy relaxation on his face died as took in Andrew; the clenched fists and rage-filled eyes.

“ _Nicky_?” He asked, with gritted teeth. Neil looked confused.

“Yeah…?” Andrew felt the rage grow even hotter as he realised Nicky must have been the one to initiate the kiss seeing as Neil said he’d only ever willingly kissed Andrew and the stupid tall Spanish girl.

“When the fuck did my cousin kiss you.” He ground out, barely noticing Eunoia and Sam sharing worried looks in his peripheral vision. Neil’s frown only deepened.

“The first night in Columbia. I assumed you’d asked him to. He gave me the drugs by kissing me.”

“You _drugged_ him?!” Eunoia shouted, appalled. Andrew ignored her.

“I didn’t ask him to. I told him to give you more of the drugs; I didn’t say to _assault_ you.” Andrew unclenches his fists but his hands are shaking with tremors he hasn’t had since coming off his meds. Worse than what Nicky had done is the next realisation. “This whole time you thought I’d asked Nicky to do that to you? You got into- into _this_ with me thinking that I was someone who’d ordered an assault on your person?”

“So you’re not fine with him choosing to be in a relationship with you because your cousin kissed him without his permission one time, but you are with him choosing to be in a relationship with someone who drugged him against his will and left him vulnerable somewhere?” Sam asks. Andrew is very close to stabbing the chubbier man in the throat, regardless of how much ice cream he’s going to lose access to.

“Andrew, it happened so long ago I promise I literally never thought about it. If I had, after everything that happened that first year, I probably would have realised that was something Nicky had done of his own volition ok? I understand why you did what you did, and if you hadn’t you never would have trusted me enough to let me stay, and then where would we be?” Neil thought about it for a second. “Well. I mean you’d probably be fine but I’d be six feet under- actually wait no I wouldn’t; my father wouldn’t have buried me, he would’ve scattered my body parts all over Baltimore.” Sam and Eunoia looked sick to their stomachs.

“Shit Neil.” Eunoia managed. Sam hummed in agreement.

“I wouldn’t be _fine_.” Andrew bit out eventually. Neil sucked in a sharp breath and then beamed, the sight truly startling. Even Sam seemed a little flummoxed.

“How did Julia end up in the states? And how do you know her?” Neil asks of Eunoia, after a moment of intense staring with Andrew.

“Her mum got a new job over here and they all moved. Julia, Rosa and I all became friends in High school, started off as a sort of ‘minorities vs bigots’ and then we all just sort of fell in with each other. Rosa was bullied because she was in the foster system, Julia because she was an immigrant and me because of my skin colour. Julia and Rosa dated for a while before Rosa’s mental health took a turn for the worse and it ended up not being a healthy relationship for either of them. After my parents died in our last year of school it was Julia who helped me reopen the ice-cream parlour, and she’s been the manager ever since. She thinks we’re almost ready to open up a sister store soon, maybe in the next city over but I haven’t decided yet.” Eunoia explained.

“Small world, huh?” Sam says, winding an arm round Eunoia waist. He looks over Andrew’s head to the windows lining the entrance door and then rolls his eyes so hard it’s a surprise they don’t fall out of his head. “Well, Yasmin’s arrived in her usual style.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please tell me what you think!!! I've missed writing Sam and Eunoia so much! The time between this chapter and chapter 17 will definitely be much shorter than between 15 and 16, so just bear with me- it all depends on how well my exams go!


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